In the Hand of Darkness
by April29Roses
Summary: Morgana sets a trap for Arthur, but Merlin pays the price, revealing his magic in the process. Caught in a torturous spell, Merlin struggles to live while Arthur deals with his feelings of betrayal and the looming threat of another attack by Morgana. This is a reveal/whump story, set a few weeks after Season 4; told from a double point of view. No slash.
1. The Attack: Merlin

In the Hand of Darkness

A/N I want to thank this Merlin community for the wonderful response to Hunting Secrets! Everlasting thanks are due to each and every one of you who commented, followed and favorited!

I wrote this reveal fic last summer, and it is set a few weeks after the end of Season 4. None of the events in Season 5 will be referenced. It is written in a double chapter format, with each chapter told from the point of view of Merlin and Arthur. I will publish one chapter on Friday and the second part of the chapter on Saturday. Updates will be weekly. This is a whump/reveal story. I hope all of you will enjoy it!

The Attack: Merlin

"Try not to move, Merlin," hissed Arthur fiercely.

The pain that shot through Merlin sucked the breath from his lungs and he knew something bad had happened, but he wasn't sure what. His body wasn't working, he thought blearily. That must be bad, Arthur sounded upset. Vaguely, he knew Arthur should have been angry with him, but all Merlin heard in his voice was concern.

"Listen to me, idiot!" Arthur's voice pierced through the blinding fog of pain that was forcing him inward. With all his strength, he tried to focus. He nodded and he heard Arthur talking but he could barely make sense of the words.

"Listen to me Merlin. Stay with me, ok? I'm right here with you, but you need to hang on. I have to move you, take you to Gaius. It's bad right now but it's going to get better. Keep listening to my voice, Merlin, I'm here with you." Odd how Arthur was babbling. He couldn't understand.

The fear reverberating in Merlin's confused mind kept trying to surface, but Arthur's voice was like a lifeline in a quagmire. He hung on with all his might. It was all that mattered. He opened his eyes, slowly focusing on his prince. No. Arthur was king now. Arthur's familiar face was limned in the harsh dark shadows of the late afternoon.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" Arthur sounded almost angry, but Merlin knew that Arthur was afraid. That struck him to the core. Was Arthur hurt?

"Are you all right", he croaked. Arthur's eyes glittered suddenly.

"No, Merlin. I'm not. That's why you have to stay with me." That made sense thought Merlin dizzily. He tried to nod again, but for some reason, he couldn't.

"I'm going to pick you up, Merlin. Don't try to move, ok, Let me do it. It works better this way. Trust me, I've been on your end. Right? Just keep listening and for once in your life, just do as you're told. Stay with me. Ready."

His body exploded in agony as he felt Arthur reach under to lift him. But he couldn't hang on. The pain merged into burning. The pain burst from him like a spear lodged in his chest. He was choking from the heat, desperate for air. He was slipping into the fire, and a ferocious dark that trapped him tighter than an iron fist. Something terrible had happened, he knew it deep down. But Arthur was right. All he had to do was listen and maybe even do as he was told. The burning hand of darkness claimed him.


	2. The Attack: Arthur

Chapter 1: The Attack

ooooo Arthur ooooo

Arthur felt suffocated by the weight of his role as king. In the aftermath of the attack by Helios and Morgana, he had not had time to spare in the effort to rebuild. Sometimes, he felt as if was pulled in a thousand directions. He had lost control of his daily schedule. Training continued with his knights, but the rest of his days were a blur of meetings and information. Impromptu meetings turned into marathon sessions. But it had to be. Decisions needed to be made. All of it was vital. All of it needed his attention, and Arthur worked tirelessly.

After a long session in court,his mind and heart had reached their limits, but there was no surcease. His attention was mangled after hearing the petitions of a farmer whose wife had been killed in the attack, and three children to feed. His crops had burned. The youngest child had eyes that would haunt him when the night was long. They smote him with the reality of war and he hated it. The man had only requested seed grain to plant the new crop in the spring. He was followed by another woman seeking news of her husband, a cooper, who had been conscripted by Helios. She had no word of him. There was a consortium of carpenters, offering to mill wood in exchange for food, but they had no tools. His people needed him, and he gave himself no quarter. Their need was far worse than his.

The line was dwindling at last as the sun was low in the sky. There was still enough light for an afternoon ride, thought the king.

He looked up at Merlin who was standing, as always,by the pillar. His twinkling eyes were curious as he noted the change in Arthur's expression. The king gave a nod, his eyes gesturing at the light outside the window. Merlin's smile was only slightly surprised, as he exited quietly.

Arthur tried to focus on the last few minutes of the meeting about rebuilding the old Roman sluice gate of the town aqueduct. The project was in capable hands, merely needing his final approval. At last, he found himself moving down the corridor, the weight of his cares lightening with each step that brought him closer to his escape.

Just as he knew he would be, Merlin was waiting at the south gate with his favorite riding horse. With relief and an untrammeled joy, they sped through the gates of Camelot. Merlin and Arthur had just cleared a copse of trees and were heading out into the open moor, where the horses could really move. Arthur felt his heart lighten with every move of his horse. The wind of his passage stirred his hair and he drank in the fresh air. The late summer grass glowed gold in the sun. The shadows lengthened.

Off in the distance, he saw a dark figure where the trees met the pale gold borders of the moor. He pulled his horse up, the animal rearing slightly as Merlin slowed to a stop beside him.

"Let's turn back here, Merlin," he said loudly, wheeling his horse. He could see Merlin scanning the figure in the distance as well. Arthur noted that a hesitation that passed over his friends face and then an almost panicked expression. He turned to look back at the figure as well.

There was fireball headed towards him. The golden flames shot out at him at incredible speed, blazing an unnatural heat. The young king threw himself from his horse. But Merlin urged his horse forward, blocking the king behind him, and he flung himself from the saddle. As the servant's horse fled in terror, screaming it's distress, Merlin planted his feet and held out his hand in a defensive posture. His movement was sure and practiced. Arthur was still moving, scuttling forward near to the ground, when he saw the fireball recoil only inches from Merlin's outstretched hand. The fireball deformed slightly as it slammed into an invisible barrier. In that moment, Merlin's eyes flashed gold and in a surge of white, the blazing energy disappeared.

Arthur felt his heart lurch in despair. Merlin. Merlin had stopped his certain death from the fireball with magic. That thought pierced his still paralyzed heart. Merlin turned, his hands still held defensively outward, but with his eyes focused wholly on his friend. For a split second their eyes met.

Shock. Horror. Pain. Fear. Betrayal.

Merlin never saw the second blast that erupted from the exact spot where the fireball had dissipated. Gold lightning had blazed white as it engulfed him. Arthur saw the force of the blast lift his friend from the ground, although his hand was dropping from his defense of Arthur, it still took the first impact. Incredibly, Arthur saw Merlin force his hand downward, even as he was being flung away and discharge at least part of the blast energy into the earth. The glowing power flowed over him, rays of light exploding from his chest in circular pattern. Merlin's shirt smoked as he fell limply to the ground, his hand still jerking, sparkling with terrifying motes of golden energy.

Unable to understand, Arthur looked back at the dark figure in a distance. To his horror, the figure was only a a few yards away and it was Morgana. Before he could even take a breath, a second fireball erupted from her hand, but this one headed up higher and higher, exploding in a thunderous crash above his head.

"There is only one way to defeat a Pendragon!" Morgana's voice echoed through the trembling air, fierce as any war cry. "Break his heart!" The anger and venom in her voice skirled through the smell of sulfur, the stench of burning. And then she was gone, her figure disappearing into swirling wisps of darkness, as an evil wind blew up into the darkening golden skies.

"Merlin,", he shouted, but his servant didn't move. With his heart in his mouth, he turned him over as carefully as he could. Blood covered his chest, oozing through his rough blue shirt in the same pattern that he had seen etched in fire only moments before. His right hand was burned and raw, clawed and trembling still.

"Merlin," he called again, touching his face. Arthur saw Merlin's eyes were open, but he was already in deep in shock. He didn't even know what had happened to him. Arthur had been there.

The eyes that pleaded silently with Arthur were the familiar eyes of his only friend, his most loyal companion. Arthur flooded with pain. Merlin had magic. Merlin had saved him with magic. The world as he knew it had changed forever. Arthur did the only thing his heart could bear to accept. Nothing else really mattered. Not now. Not to him.

"Try not to move, Merlin," he hissed fiercely.


	3. The Darkest Realization: Arthur

Chapter 2

The Darkest Realization

ooo Arthur ooo

Hours had passed. The nightmare of moving Merlin was over. With his servant unconscious, burned and bleeding from the chest, he had to put Merlin on the horse in front of him and brace him as they rode. He thanked Tristan in his mind a thousand times, for teaching his horse to kneel on command but the jarring ride had taken a terrible toll on his manservant. It had been a nightmare on so many levels. Hearing Merlin's moans fade to agonized gasps and then to silence, had shredded his resolve.

Reaching Camelot and seeing the shocked, terrified looks of the townspeople had been a bad dream that turned into a rescue by the most humble of angels. Arthur would never forget that he had only managed to gasp out "Please, " when a farmer had stepped forward with a cart and wordlessly began to dump his load so that they could transport his friend more easily. An old woman had rushed out with a quilt to pad the movement of the rough wagon. A dark haired child watching from her mother's side had covered her face in sympathetic pain as she heard Merlin's heart rending gasp as he was gently lowered from Arthur's arms and into the cart. A few moments later she had materialized beside his servant in the wagon, tucking a wadded up, well loved scrap of a blanket beneath Merlin's' dark head, like a pillow. A runner was sent to the castle to alert Gaius to Merlin's arrival. As the cart had started forward, Merlin had begun to convulse with the pain of the movement, and Arthur had leaped from his horse, shouting for the farmer to halt. A boy of no more than ten summers had stepped forward and urged the king to ride with Merlin and he had led both of the horses behind the cart with a faithful joy and concern in his young face that Arthur would not soon forget. As he had ridden in to the main courtyard, trying vainly to brace Merlin from the rough lurching of the wheels over the cobblestones,the tears in the eyes of his people had moved him as much as their concern and kindness.

Gaius had been there in an instant. His robe flaring as the old man sped down the stairs. He had been grave and terse, professional, but there was no denying the bone deep terror in his loving eyes, as he had stooped to assess his ward's injuries.

Then the world came back in focus, even in the terrible whirlwind of what had happened, because Guinevere was in his arms. Her eyes struggled with questions and hope as she looked up at him, trying to understand what had happened and for just a little while, he had let himself cling to her with all the strength his heart could muster. He shook like a child. He couldn't speak. It was enough to let her still the gut deep trembling of his angry, disbelieving, terrified soul with the steadfast strength of her heart.

But even as the terror of Merlin dying before he got to help was fading, it was replaced by the realization of the magical nature of Merlin's injury. He was not responding to any of Gaius' medicines. He was in agonizing pain and nothing was helping.

Arthur's head still spun in confusion as he sat next to Merlin in Gaius' chambers. He could not tear himself away. Any one could see, how badly Merlin was injured, maybe he was dying, but he had no way to gauge the damage inflicted by a magical weapon, made of words and executed in fire. In his still reeling mind, he saw Merlin as the sudden lightning struck out of nowhere. His servant had deflected the bolt with a movement of his hand and a flash of his eyes, then the second bolt had struck. He would never forget that terrible image. The thunder, Morgana's voice and the smell of burning. Merlin was falling, his body seized in a paroxysm of light.

In that terrible moment, Arthur recognized a tangle of truths that echoed in his stunned mind. Merlin had magic. Merlin had lied to him. Merlin had saved his life with magic, probably giving his own in the process. And then there was the most terrible truth of all. If Merlin didn't open his eyes and talk to him soon, he would go mad. He would lose himself. His heart would break under the weight of the truth he had glimpsed once in the caves of Ealdor a few weeks ago and had denied steadfastly to himself in the weeks that followed.

Arthur tried to seize control of his thoughts, even as his heart quailed. Morgana had aimed the lightning blast at him and his manservant had stopped it with flick of his eyes. Arthur had heard no incantation, no spell. He began to understand that Merlin was not only a sorcerer, but was so powerful he did not even need words to create magic. Tears of betrayal stung his eyes as he struggled with his feelings, his shocked disbelief, with the weary,merciless knowledge that someone he trusted had betrayed him again

"Merlin", he whispered fiercely. He could not bring himself to look at his friend, his anger was so deep, but he could not bear to leave his side. How could he stand that Merlin was suffering for saving him? In the next moment, he felt only rage that Merlin had lied to him, and in the next moment, all he could recall was the silent plea in his eyes as Morgana's bolt had struck him. "Merlin."

Restless as his thoughts, he looked once again at the dark haired young man beside him. His heart contracted. His servant's face was incredibly pale, shining with unnatural sweat. His right hand was burned and raw under the white bandages. It trembled still, as if stuck in the conflagration of magic it had deflected. Arthur had been shocked to see the scar on Merlin's chest earlier. Gaius had said it was on old injury, but would say nothing more. It was a circular weal, the skin twisted and ugly, and now the scar was bleeding and burned again. Blood had already heavily stained the bandages that Gaius had bound in place. Even unconscious Merlin was panting in pain, his eyes screwed shut and his heart hammering unsteadily. Arthur could see his quick erratic pulse beating in the base of his neck, where the blood vessels beat in his throat. He was taking short shallow breaths.

Only a short while ago, Gaius had confessed that he was no longer sure what to do, beyond treating his ward's physical injuries. He had begged Arthur to send for a healer that had been banished from Camelot. Her name was Alice.

Arthur remembered her only vaguely, even though he, himself, had escorted her to the dungeon. Gaius claimed her skills as healer were legendary but Arthur was beyond caring. Guinevere had gone, taking a written plea from Gaius, along with Percival and Leon for security, to convince the healer to come. He told himself that Guinevere would not fail. If only Merlin could last until she arrived. Arthur hid his trembling hands by taking Merlin's uninjured hand in both of his. Gwen would be here soon he told himself. Gaius was readying another potion to ease Merlin, and as he glanced up he saw him approach with it in hand.

"I know it's bad," he said as the old physican coaxed the liquid down Merlin's throat. "What ever Gaius has given you for the pain isn't working so he's made you something else." Merlin's agony was beyond words and it struck at Arthur again, with all the weight of a sword strike. "Can you hear me, Merlin", he pleaded.

To his utter shock he felt Merlin's hand tremble and then slowly his fingers tightened around Arthur's hand. A smile blazed between the old physician and the king, but a shadow loomed for they knew he was suffering. "I'm here with you Merlin and help is coming. Hang on." Arthur was begging now, fighting reality every step of the way. He could see Merlin's eyes darting back and forth behind his closed eyes. As weak as he was, Merlin tried to move as if he was trying to turn and a whimper broke from his lips. His burned hand began to shake uncontrollably, and the scarlet stains on the bandages deepened and grew. Gaius cursed behind him.

"Arthur. Please Arthur", his servant panted deliriously, barely able to be heard. He leaned closer to hear, but the king felt the whispered plea as a scream of agony in his heart. "I'm burning." Merlin was sobbing, gasping in pain, lost in a nightmare that was weakening him by the second. "Arthur! " His voice caught as the pain overcame him, but he continued to beg, calling for his friend brokenly, until Arthur thought he would go mad. The reality of Merlin's nightmare shook the king to his core and he could not listen. He could not.

He leaned closer to his injured friend and gripped his hand tightly as he kept on talking. It seemed to calm his servant, his friend. Merlin eased at last, still fighting for each breath, lost in the pain of his injuries but free of the fire in his dreams. It was all Arthur could offer him. With his heart breaking, the king talked of nothing; he spoke of everything. He prattled on as endlessly as Merlin himself, until at last Guinevere appeared at his side. He could not bring himself to meet her eyes; he was so flooded with the warring forces of his heart; guilt and anger, betrayal and remorse, and now the sheer relief of her words.

"Arthur, Alice is here."


	4. The Darkest Realization: Merlin

The Darkest Realization: Merlin

In the dark, the flames surround him. The roar of the flame consumed him, and the heat blistered him, but there was no light. No hope. Merlin was lost and desperate, the pain that consumed him was unrelenting. He was burning from within. He could hear Arthur; his voice rising and falling above the thunder of his pain. He followed the familiar cadence of his speech as the only recognizable comfort in his dark hell.

To his despair, he felt someone lift his head. He knew they were being gentle, but the pain intensified until he screamed in pure terror. A cool liquid was pouring into his mouth and he swallowed reflexively. The blessed coolness made him greedy, as he tried to drink more.

"Easy," said a soft feminine voice that he did not recognize. "Take just a few sips: it will soon help with the pain."

"How long till it helps?" Arthur's tone was clipped.

"Not long, sire. A few minutes perhaps. You must understand Arthur, this is magical injury and the treatment is distinct from more regular healing. I will do my best to ease his suffering. But I will have to use magic, my Lord."

There was a silence and Merlin could feel his friend trying to regroup, to compose his thoughts.

"You," he paused as if gathering strength, "you speak of easing his suffering. Are you trying to say that...Is this a mortal wound my lady?" The tone of Arthur's voice tore at him. Was he dying?

"I cannot lie, Sire. It was a powerful spell that has attacked your friend, Merlin. It is very serious." Her words were dark but her voice was kind. "He is young Arthur, and his magic is very strong...

"And Alice is very skilled, " interrupted Gaius. He could hear Gaius and Arthur speaking, but as they had moved away, but Merlin couldn't understand them any longer.

The pain was letting him go. The burning was fading, replaced by a relentless exhaustion. It reminded him of when he overextended his magic. But the release from pain was blessing enough. He forced his eyes open, gazing up at the gentle , wrinkled face of the healer, Alice.

"Thank you," he whispered. She tipped another small sip of the cool liquid into his mouth and he swallowed gratefully.

"Arthur." To his embarrassment, he sounded almost plaintive, but the thought fled as his king moved into his field of vision. Arthur looked exhausted and even a bit frightened. There was a darkness in his eyes that disturbed him,and then, suddenly, Merlin remembered. Morgana, the moor, the lightning and his instinctive reaction. He had used magic in front of Arthur.

"Arthur!" he cried out in anguish. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I wanted to tell you, I did. His head started to spin. "I didn't want to lie, but Uther, and then... Arthur,please. " His confusion and pain were rising, threatening to overwhelm his tenuous hold on consciousness. Vaguely, he knew they were trying to calm him, but he was completely possessed by his fear. It leapt at him out of the dark of his pain. He jerked, trying to sit up, but the burning blazed up in his hand again and he felt the oblivion licking at the edges of his vision. He heard himself scream and he couldn't stop himself. He sobbed out incoherent pleas for mercy, but all he could see was the nightmare of his revelation in that last moment. He was caught in the moment, when his magic turned to betrayal in the eyes of the king, whose life he had just saved, when the eyes of his friend became the eyes of a stranger. He prayed for oblivion, but the burning consumed him to ash. He begged for forgiveness, but the dark ground him into nothingness. Gradually, the hellish thoughts dimmed their attack, the relentless pain was dulling and he could breathe again. He was being held, gently. His head was cradled on someone's shoulder. He could feel his body shuddering, the trembling deep in his core, as his breathing eased a bit.

He heard Alice's soft voice chanting a spell and Gaius murmuring along with her. This time the sip of cool liquid was like ice. He swallowed once more. The burning in his chest and hand faded to bearable levels and he could see again. It was Arthur who was beside him. It was Arthur who was holding him. His eyes were clear, as they held his own steadily.

"I told you before, idiot. Try not to move. I know what I'm talking about". He smiled. Merlin was beyond words. His face was wet with tears. Strangely, Arthur kept talking. "You saved my life, Merlin. I saw you use magic to save my life." Alice tilted another freezing sip of liquid into his mouth. He felt himself slipping away, but he fought his eyes open, focusing on Arthur with all his remaining strength.

"You saw my magic?"

"Your secret is safe with me, Merlin" the king promised. Relief flooded the warlock. Hope, so long neglected, sprang to life with his words. He saw no shadows in Arthur's eyes. That was impossible, but he didn't care.

"Really?" he whispered as his awareness faded away.

In his heart, Merlin believed the comfort of Arthur's words. In the torturous darkness,Merlin held on to hope and it again took the form of Arthur's voice. He refused the evil images of betrayal that had tortured him in his pain only moments before. He shoved his doubts aside, pushed away his fear of his revelation, as he swore to himself to stay with his king, his prince. Holding fast to his fragile peace, he fell into a dreamless slumber.

A/N Thank you, thank you, one and all for favoriting and following my story. I hope you are enjoying the double chapter format, with both Merlin's and Arthur's POV. I will post again perhaps mid week, because the next double chapter is fairly short.


	5. Tenacity: Arthur

Chapter 3

A/N This is short plot bunny chapter that refused to be left out of the main story. Hope you enjoy! A regular sized chapter will be up this weekend.

Tenacity: Arthur

Merlin was trying to breathe. His servant's struggle for air was excruciating. Arthur could see the muscular pull on his collarbone as he tried to inhale, as if he couldn't use the typical muscles in his chest to breathe. His soft gasps were shallow and he couldn't seem to draw any air into his lungs. It hurt unbearably to watch him labor for each gasp. Arthur had seen men die like that, pierced through the lung and gasping as their lungs filled with blood. But this was different; there was no end to it. And he was glad of it. To his everlasting horror, he was glad of it. As long as Merlin kept breathing, he was glad.

His servant was deeply unconscious again; Alice's pain medication seemed to be letting him rest. Gaius and Alice believed it would help him prepare for the difficult healing ahead, but Arthur could not shake the desperation that hounded his thoughts. Surely, Merlin didn't have much more time. By all that was holy, his lips were blue. His hands were cold and even his finger nails were tinged with duskiness. He tried to deny what he was seeing. He tried to tell himself that Gaius and Alice would work their healing soon.

Both of the physicians were also resting, gathering their strength for their attempt at the healing tonight. Alice had withdrawn to a room where she was thinking or meditating or something like that. He had offered to stay with Merlin. No, he had refused to leave and Gaius had given in, knowing the king was too stubborn to listen to sense.

Looking down at his servant, he was stalked by the thought, that he might never get to talk to Merlin again. The thought alone sank into his chest like the stroke of a blade, stealing his hope. Only a fool would deny that Merlin was slipping away.

"Merlin", he whispered. Even while he was lost in his pain, the king saw his servant turn ever so slightly towards his voice. Moved beyond words, he reached out and placed his hand on Merlin's, where it rested on the covers. His fingers were limp and far too cool. He surrounded them with his warm hands, hoping to rouse the failing body before him.

"Please Merlin. Listen to me now," he began softly. The dark haired boy remained unaware. "You've lied to me and kept things from me, but I... I'm trying hard not to care. There's some explanation, I know it, because I know you. I trust you Merlin, you idiot, even if you do have magic. You've got a reason for staying with me, for protecting me like you did. You've got a reason for lying to me. I'm lost and I don't know what to think. So just don't go and leave me like this." He thought of all the mornings they had spent together on the practice field, on long, weary patrols, during long, boring meetings, on hunts, on desperate quests. The king recalled his servant's strange, kind wisdom, Excalibur coming to his hand from the stone. He recalled foolish daily things with a lurching sorrow. He recalled how Merlin knew when he was famished, how he knew when he couldn't bear the thought of food, when he wanted to talk and when he wanted nothing but silence. Merlin had never left his side for years now. The thought of life without his servant- no let's be honest, Arthur told himself. The thought of life without his friend was unbearable. At the very least he could be honest about his feelings of friendship for Merlin. But Merlin had magic.

There was no denying that for years, Merlin had lied to Arthur about his deepest self. The familiar pain of betrayal impaled him suddenly. It was more than he could bear. He no longer knew why, but tears were threatening behind his eyes, burning in his throat, tightening his chest. They started to slip down his face silently. Not Merlin. It couldn't be. Merlin would never betray him. Never Merlin.

Confused, terrified, uncertain of everything, Arthur rested his head on the bed beside his friend, the friend who had saved his life, the friend who had betrayed him, his friend that he hardly knew, and wept. He wept as he had not, since he was a boy. The tears were bitter and they ate as his heart like fire.


	6. Tenacity: Merlin

Chapter Three

Tenacity: Merlin

The burning darkness held him fast, diminished, but still fierce in it's domination. He tried to breathe, but the heat and the fire surged through him, stealing his resolve. He could hear Arthur's voice.

He sounded unaccountably sad. Pain shot through him: it shivered along his magic calling him back into the agony of his body. Arthur was struggling with words now, his voice strangled and almost desperate. He seemed angry at Merlin's lies, but there was no mistaking the pleading in Arthur's voice. Then to his utter shock, he felt himself sucked into another feeling that was tormenting Arthur.

Despair. It sang to him darkly, but it was not a word he associated with his king. But here it was, eating at his heart, burning him with a agony that wracked him with an endless fire, like his own torture. It was as if the darkness that burned him had reached out to Arthur,captured him and tortured him alongside Merlin. That was wrong, he told himself. It had to stop.

It was and betrayal tore at his friend, confusion ripped him into uncertain memories and questions. He realized Arthur was crying. It ravaged his heart. It shocked him to the center of his being.

Hoping his body would work, Merlin concentrated on moving his hand. Arthur was shaking now, unaware of anything but the torrent of his emotion. Merlin couldn't find the strength to call out. He tried to open his eyes, and they cracked open. His fingers spasmed with the effort as they withdrew from Arthur's grip. He touched Arthur's head almost tentatively. Softly, he ruffled the king's hair, his hand coming to rest, twined in his friend's golden hair. It was all he could offer.

He heard Arthur call his name. He couldn't answer but he held on to Arthur's voice. He held on with all the strength in his heart. Exhausted, he faded into the confines of their connection. Arthur had not left him alone in the torturous dark. Arthur was by his side. No matter what Arthur might say, his action meant more than any declaration. Almost afraid to believe in Arthur's presence, the joy it gave him raised his strength to bear the burning of Morgana's spell. He could last a bit longer.


	7. The Healing: Arthur

The Healing: Arthur

Alice and Gaius exchanged looks, but Arthur could not understand the importance of what he had just said.

"From what you have told us, Arthur, it appears the second lightning blast was bound to the left hand path. A favorite trick of Morgana's. It reverses any spell it encounters. When Merlin shielded you from the lightning blast, it reversed and struck him," explained Gaius.

"Morgana is clever and patient, " continued the old physician. She knows you well. Your penchant for a ride on the moor to clear your head is well known. It was your favorite ride as a boy."He sighed. "She counted on Merlin stepping forward to protect you. The first blast was meant to kill him. If he interfered with the spell at all, which Morgana was counting on, it would reverse and strike again. The second blast was meant for you." The old man stopped, looking away for just a moment before he continued. "All Morgana has now is time. She may have been waiting weeks to spring that trap."

"And now she knows that Merlin has magic." Arthur shook his head in disbelief at the events that were unfolding.

"She probably believes Merlin is dead," murmured Alice softly. "Perhaps it is best if she continues to think so." She paused as both men looked at her. She continued in her gentle voice. " If Morgana thinks that she has killed Merlin, she may believe that she now has the advantage."

"Overconfidence has been her undoing before, " observed Gaius.

"The last fireball was a message," said Arthur suddenly, as his memory of that moment rose up in detail in his mind. "The only way to defeat a Pendragon, is to break their heart." He paused, looking over to where his manservant was resting. The grimace of pain was finally gone from his face. "If Morgana believes I am broken, she will think Camelot is within her reach." Merlin was so pale and still, that Arthur knew his heart might still be defeated. It was a thought that tormented him. He could not control the rising feelings of grief and panic as he thought of his servant's sacrifice.

"If we can delay Morgana for long enough for Merlin to recover, " began Gaius but a sharp glance from Arthur startled both of the healers.

"A sorcerer fighting for Camelot?"

Gaius rounded on the king, aghast that he had heard both concern and callous bone-headed disrespect in almost the same breath.

"Merlin has stood by your side, sire, from his first days in Camelot!" Passion flooded his tone. "That will never change. He has silently defended you and your kingdom, at a cost you cannot fathom. He has shown you his loyalty again and again. Who is to say if he fights at your side with magic, rather than sword and lance , that his sacrifice is any less holy?" The speech left the old man breathless, but he continued on, riveting the young king with his dark eyes. "He is no less loyal to you now, than before!"

"He lied to me Gaius! He hid his magic from me for six years! How can I ever trust..."

The old man lifted one eye brow and Arthur silenced himself in shame. Merlin's loyalty, his selfless devotion were only too evident. The king turned away, furious and ashamed, struggling to process what he could hardly bear to hear.

"Perhaps," said Alice kindly, placing a hand on each of the respective shoulders of the men, "We must focus ourselves on the task at hand. Let me find a way to repair the damage from Morgana's left handed spell." She walked over to the warlock, placing a gentle hand on his forehead. "I do not know if he will be strong enough to fight at your side, any time soon young king, but I think I can save his life. Merlin is running out of time."

"Will you need protective wards?" said Gaius gravely.

"I believe so, Gaius. But you need to tell me more about this scar on his chest. Why would the energy of the blast leave his body in that spot, if it hit his hand first?" She ran a practiced hand an inch or two above his bandaged chest, pausing where the bleeding was the deepest. "I can feel the residual power even now." Alice was already seated next to Merlin on the bed, and Gaius motioned for Arthur to sit as well.

"It is a complicated story, Alice. " the old man sighed. "The prince had been bitten by a Questing Beast, " began Gaius. "Arthur was dying and Uther was desperate, beyond despair. Merlin made a compact with Nimue to save Arthur's life. He believed he could save the prince by offering his own life in exchange at the Island of the Blessed."

"This boy and Nimue..." Alice's voice was slightly shocked.

Arthur sank down beside Gaius, looking over at his manservant. This was incredible. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Merlin had battled a sorceress. The horrific circular scar was evidence of where a fireball had struck him in the midst of their battle.

"There, "said Alice, her hands floating above Merlin's chest, tracing the edges of the scar. "It's a blessing his heart didn't stop immediately. But I must be honest, Gaius, there may be some severe damage here. His heart beat is very erratic."

Gaius nodded sadly; his old eyes were tragic.

"It was the reverse flow of energy that burned him, using the same neural pathways as the other previous , magical injury, " surmised Gaius. Alice looked at him keenly. There Alice found the connection, and the conversation between the healers escalated into arcane and technical knowledge. Arthur was left with his thoughts.

The king reeled as memories began to surface in relation to what he had learned. 'I am happy to be your servant to the day I die.' It had meant so much more. As he listened to Gaius he began to understand how deep his oblivion had been. How could he not have seen? How could he not have known? He put together the small but unexplainable mysteries of life with his manservant. He recalled the objects that tripped opponents, sudden fires, bandits that dropped weapons, falling branches, rock slides. He recalled Merlin's sudden disappearances. He remembered injuries that healed with only a night of rest. He recalled a blue orb that had rescued him in the caves. Arthur's head spun as he realized how many times Merlin must have saved his life or turned the tide of the battle, all the while remaining hidden. There were more stories and more lies than he could begin to imagine.

Familiar anger felt better than this terrible uncertainty. So he warmed as he concluded that Merlin had lied to him from the very first day they met. As his father had said, all sorcerers were full of lies, waiting to turn each situation to their advantage. He knew the litany like he knew the the pain that ate at him. Betrayal filled his heart with a burning hurt. A hurt he knew too well. He looked down at his friend, a man he now thought he barely knew, and his heart lurched. Merlin's lips were pale and cracked. He was barely breathing, he wasn't even struggling to breathe anymore, as if his strength was exhausted.

Reality shook him, like a a wolf and it's prey. Whatever his manservant had done through the years, it had all been for him. That understanding shook his view of the world. Merlin had used magic to save him, to rescue Camelot, to defend what was good and right. Magic had saved his life and Merlin was dying.

His idiotic, brave, loyal friend was dying.

"I think I know what needs to be done," said Alice. Her words roused Arthur at last. His attention had faded as his own thoughts distracted him.

"Alice, " began Gaius quietly. "This will be a dangerous for you as well," but there Arthur interrupted.

His heart was heavy and dark with emotion. He did not command as a king; he pleaded as a friend

"Please Alice, you must save him. I owe him so much." He hated the way his voice broke at the end. He echoed his own words of a few weeks before. In the light of his new knowledge, his words seemed heavy with prescience, with a truth that weighed on his aching heart. "He is my only friend, and I can't bear to lose him."

A/N My deepest thanks to all of you who are following this story. And to the review from my guest, Thalia: This story is already written and I am only making minor changes prior to posting. Please keep reading and Enjoy!


	8. The Healing: Merlin

The Healing: Merlin

The darkness no longer burned. He was thankful the agony was at bay, but he knew the injury remained, even in his deepest sleep. He could feel his weakness and exhaustion, the evil doubt that sang at the bottom of his pain. He could hear Arthur's voice among the other murmurings around him ,but he couldn't muster the strength to turn his head.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was close by, his tone subdued, almost careful. "Merlin, Alice needs us to move you to a protective circle, so she can heal you."

Merlin tried to open his eyes as he roused but he couldn't. Arthur was talking about magic; it was disconcerting. It would have been funny if it wasn't so bizarre. He felt Arthur's hand resting on top of his, the king's fingers curved into his palm and he tried to squeeze Arthur's hand but his fingers only twitched.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" His tone was hopeful. Just as when he had been lost in the dark, he tried again to tighten his fingers but he could not. Arthur was talking to Gaius again; he was pleading.

"No, Gaius! Please." Arthur's voice sank as he paused, and he added softly. "Must we move him? The pain will be excruciating... I can't..."

"If there were another way...", came the physician's voice. Merlin wanted to weep at the deep sadness in his mentor's voice. "This is dangerous magic, Arthur and there is not enough room for the circle here. There will be powerful forces at work. While we attempt the healing, it might be best if you left." But Arthur continued as if he had not heard the old man's words.

"Please Gaius, don't move him. The pain alone will kill him and you can see he's barely hanging one. I can't..." He heard tears in Arthur's voice.

"You must leave then," said Gaius stiffly, and there was a long pause. Merlin could only imagine their faces. "We will will move him as carefully as we can," said Gaius at last, in a comforting tone. Merlin tried to squeeze Arthur's hand again, as best he could, but he sensed, more than felt, when his hand drifted from Arthur's grasp.

As they began to lift him, hands gently reaching below him, the burning began again, first in his hand, and then spreading to his shoulder and his chest. He heard himself groan, and then they were lifting him from the bed. With the first swaying lurch, Merlin felt the flames explode from his chest again, the pain leaving him breathless. Desperate to escape, he tried to get away but his legs only circled helplessly. He shook and jerked uncontrollably as the torture consumed him and he pleaded. He screamed desperately for Arthur, for Gaius, for his mother, but there was only the maelstrom of fire within. He gasped for air, but only flames invaded him. The fire was pouring through him now and he screamed again. Raw fire surged through his chest, searing his throat, where it met the smallest trickle of cooling icy liquid. He took it in greedily. He struggled to open his eyes, his face was wet with reflexive tears.

Gaius laid a tender hand on the forehead of his ward. Merlin wanted to say so many things, as he looked up at his beloved mentor but he knew what his screams had cost Gaius. It was written in the indelible shadow he saw in his wise eyes. But Arthur. His friends eyes were a dark mirror of his own suffering and he shuddered at what he saw in their blue depths.

"Sorry", he whispered, but he wasn't sure anyone heard him. Candles were being lit, sweet smoke floated through the air and Merlin began to loose control of his attention as the icy liquid calmed his pain further. Gaius was talking to Arthur, urging him to get up and leave, so the healing ritual could begin. Arthur was refusing, ignoring Alice's soft requests and Gaius' terse demands. The world was getting fuzzy and vague. He struggled to make words. He wanted to beg Arthur to stay with him, but hazily understood that he didn't really need to say a thing. The king hadn't moved.

"Hold fast, old friend, " said Arthur firmly. He took the warlock's hand as more icy liquid was poured into his mouth. The king's eyes were steady and commanding, but Merlin felt himself slipping away again. He tried to reach out to Arthur, suddenly more frightened than he could admit. He struggled to talk, but the king would have none of it. "Shut up," whispered Arthur, in his ear. He realized it didn't matter. Arthur was beside him and strength flooded from his steady presence. "Hold fast," he said again.

His mind spiraled, whirling into the nothingness of the abyss. A coolness was seeping into the fire within him, a feeling like bubbling water washing away the dark fire. It was like music that tasted of home. It was a song that flared in colors across his awareness. His hand felt the relief first. Then his arm.

Merlin felt a sudden crushing weight on his chest and a stabbing pain. He was being clawed by a dragon. He struggled against the weight of the gigantic creature, not willing to give up, but he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He flailed hopelessly against the brutal crushing terror. He knew suddenly that he was dying. The pain coalesced in his chest, breaking him into hopeless tortured pieces. The dragon roared as it's diamond sharp claw pierced him to his backbone, shooting him into an ancient darkness. The roar surrounded him, the flood of reverberation pushing him forward to the darkness to some unknown end. He was lost in the immensity of the oceanic abyss. Universes winked out and then fluttered into existence, but he did not. He remained.

Lancelot was sitting across from him in the charcoaler's hut, a small smile haunted his lips and there was a familiar sparkle in his eye. There was a merry fire in the brazier and the room glowed with a cozy warmth.

"Hello Merlin."

"Am I dead, Lancelot?"

"I don't really know," he answered slowly. "What happened?"

"Morgana almost killed Arthur, and I stopped her in time,but I couldn't hide my magic this time." His voice sunk to an quiet, almost frightened whisper. "Arthur saw me use magic, Lancelot! He looked right at me, and I could see..." he stopped himself, looking up to the comforting eyes of his friend, before he could go on with his explanation. "He was so angry, so hurt."

"What happened to you?" His tone was quiet and grave, but there was the sound of steel in his voice, and Merlin raced to clarify.

"No, no. It wasn't like that Lancelot. It was Morgana. She unleashed a spell that I defeated once before, but it took me from behind and I got in the way." The knight's subtle smile appeared again.

"Well that explains it. How bad are you hurt?"

"Bad enough. I'm trapped in a spell, Lancelot. I think my heart is failing. My body feels like it's burning and I can hear voices from the dark, telling me things, terrible things. Every time any one touches me, the fire inside roars up and the voices start. All the things I never want to hear, all my failings..." The boy pulled at his dark hair in desperation. Lancelot laid a calming hand on Merlin's arm as he fought to keep his voice under control. Merlin took a deep breath. "Gaius keeps trying to help and Arthur has sent for a healer. They're trying to heal me now. " Despair edged his voice.

"He sent for a healer?" His voice was incredulous.

The dark haired boy nodded, unable to look at the gentle knight.

"Has he come to see you?"

He nodded. "He hasn't left my side Lancelot. I can hear him talking to me, there in Morgana's hell. If it wasn't for his voice, I would go mad. He sounds..." His voice trailed off. His stormy eyes met the deep eyes of the knight who had always accepted and respected him.

"Then you better listen to what you just said, Merlin, " said Lancelot with a grin. He clapped a hand on the servant's bony shoulder. "I think your secret is out Merlin, and maybe it's not the nightmare you think."

Merlin blinked. Lancelot was growing dim, the whirling darkness was rising again, eating at the edges of his vision. He surrendered and all was stillness again. There was no more pain.


	9. Changed Forever: Merlin

Changed Forever: Merlin

Merlin opened his eyes The room was dark and quiet. Dawn was coming. The faintest light was beginning to touch the windows. There was no more pain. He felt wrapped in stillness, his body relaxed. He could breathe.

Arthur was asleep in a chair next to him. He must have been there for a while because he wasn't wearing his chainmail, thought Merlin to himself. His familiar blond hair was disheveled and he hadn't shaved, but his shirt was clean. Gaius was seated on the other side of the bed, his arm draped around someone. Alice. He began to remember. The pain, the burning hell of pain and Alice's soft voice, the cool liquid. Magic.

His eyes widened as he realized what had happened. Memory and fear gripped him in sudden terror. He had used magic in front of Arthur. His eyes returned to the sleeping king. Someone had draped a blanket around his shoulders. Arthur had seen him use magic, but here he was, next to Merlin. He remembered Arthur's voice like a lifeline in the burning darkness. He remembered Arthur's eyes, clear and direct. Before his mind could understand what all those things meant, his heart understood. Tears flooded his eyes. Arthur would call him a girl, Merlin thought to himself with a hysterical certainty. He took a deep breath to calm himself and the king startled awake.

In that moment their eyes met; he heard Arthur say his name.

To Merlin's surprise, Arthur did not smile, he did not move again. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, swallowing hard. He raised his hand after a moment; the familiar imperious gesture that Merlin knew meant Arthur needed silence.

Arthur opened his eyes and they shone lucent in the light of the rising sun. He reached out to touch Merlin's injured hand and then to look at his chest. Only the horrific scar remained, now newly reddened and twisted further, but cleanly healed. There was a peculiar expression on his face.

"Hey," said Merlin softly.

Arthur reached down, placing his hand on Merlin's forearm. His grip was firm and warm, and Merlin, not sure how to respond, only took a deep breath as he looked into Arthur's eyes. He was afraid of what he might find there, despite what his heart was telling him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he breathed, trying to look away. "I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't take the chance. You might have sent me away. Please Arthur, don't..."

Arthur convulsively tightened his grip on Merlin's arm, stopping him mid-word. His heart sank; fear impaled him.

"Merlin, you idiot", he interrupted. The king spoke again after a moment, but his voice was thick with emotion

"I owe you everything, Merlin. I wouldn't even be here, except," he paused, looking directly into Merlin's turbulent eyes: he could not avoid their direct candor. Merlin was afraid he could not bear to see the change that might be there. Arthur went on speaking.

"You used magic to save me and you've been doing it for years. You have saved Camelot more times than Gaius could say and never once did I know. I don't know the whole story and I want to kill you for lying to me. And I have a feeling the lie is so big, it's already changed everything." The warlock tried to meet Arthur's eyes, but the certainty of their separation was looming. He was panicked, the futility of his situation rendering him ever more silent. His heart was pounding so hard, he could barely hear.

"When I saw that lightning bolt hit you Merlin, I saw you had magic, but all I really understood was that I couldn't lose you." At that, the warlock had no choice but to raise his eyes in shock. "Don't say anything!", the king commanded softly, with a glance. He couldn't understand Arthur's tone, or maybe he was afraid to hope.

"I've been trying to think what I would say to you, if you made it." He lowered his head again. "Do you hear what I just said, Merlin? " He continued with a soft bitter laugh. "If you made it..." He was having trouble finding his words. "If it hadn't been for Alice... You were burned Merlin, and Gaius had no way to tell how badly your heart was damaged, until Alice got here. It was unbearable, the pain you were in, and I knew it was because of me. I saw the scar..." His emotion threatened to overcome him again. "Merlin, how many hells have you been through for me?" Although his voice was quiet, almost too quiet, Merlin was taken aback by the passion he heard in Arthur's voice. He found his own tears rising again, as he watched his friend struggle to express himself.

"Your heart stopped Merlin. Right when Alice was healing you. I thought..." he paused again, and Merlin was shocked at the agony he heard there. "Gaius lost it and he hit your chest so hard, I heard a rib break. I thought he had gone mental, but your heart started again. I've never seen Gaius use magic, but it was a miracle Merlin! He spoke a spell to tie your heart and your breathing to his own. He kept you breathing and your heart beating, and Alice went on with the healing. It was only with both of their magic that they were able to bring you back. It was...," and here his words ceased,while he shook his head, his voice sunk to a tormented whisper. "It was a miracle." The silence deepened and the warlock raised his eyes hopefully, hardly daring to believe. "Don't ever come that close to dying again, Merlin." He squeezed his friend's arm gently, closing his eyes again. He wanted to believe that Arthur was accepting his magic, but the idea was so vast, and his heart so raw. His friend was suffering and he wanted to make quip, to bring a more familiar look into Arthur's eyes, than the guilty pain he saw there. But his king was seldom so direct, so honest, and his servant knew better than to interrupt.

"Just don't, " he ended. His words stumbled into silence, and Arthur was struggling to find them again.

"You are the best person I know, Merlin. Never have you failed me. And I'm beginning to understand so many things. Not long ago, Gaius told me that one day I would know all the sacrifices that had been made for me. I'm beginning to find out. " He took a deep breath. "But things can never be the same."

Merlin nodded his assent, his heart was too full. Arthur truly understood what he had done for him, but he steeled himself for what would come next. How many times had he heard the words of banishment in his imagination. At least Arthur was grateful. His heart was breaking.

"Stay in Camelot, " said the king. "Fight by my side. Magic cannot be the evil I was taught if it is you who commands it. It saved you last night and you have used it for good for years, in secret. but..."" He stopped, his eyes searching Merlin's.

He could only nod. He couldn't manage a word, he was so shocked and so amazed. Unthinking, he tried to sit up, pushing himself upward with one hand and trying to reach out to Arthur with the other, but he didn't have the strength. Arthur's quick hands caught him, holding him for a moment, before he settled him gently back on the pillows. He lightly touched Merlin's hair, and it was in that moment, with that gesture, that Merlin understood how truly improbable his survival had been. He remembered Lancelot's wry smile as the darkness took him away.

"When are you going to listen, you idiot" Arthur said gruffly. "I told you not to move, remember."

Merlin could not help but smile, his heart surging. The truth of what Arthur had just said, beginning to work it's way into his heart. The moment would live forever in his memory.

"I am yours to command," he said simply, after a long silence. "I will stand by your side and defend Camelot. Because there is a better way Arthur, and I know that you, only you..." He tried to focus his words, he was so full of feeling and his vision narrowed, as creeping weakness overcame him. The darkness closed in, framing Arthur in an unnatural glowing sort of way. He fought himself into awareness again, still buoyed by the clear light in his friend's eyes. He felt the joy of the impossible gather and center his waning strength. "You are the Once and Future King and I will serve you gladly."

A mad happiness filled him, even though his strength was failing completely now. His sight wavered, but his joy could not be contained.

"I swear," he whispered, taking Arthur's hand, who held it as king holds the hand of those who swear fealty. With those words a white glow began to flood from between their linked fingers. Sparks of gold, flew from the heart of the shimmering brilliance circling their joined hands with motes of golden light. It faded as Merlin smiled and looked up at the king for a moment, his heart shining in his eyes.

"And I, "echoed Gaius, to Merlin's surprise, for the world had shrunk to the space between he and Arthur.

"And I, " repeated Alice as she placed her small hand on Arthur's shoulder.

But Merlin could say no more. The joy in his heart could no longer compensate for his failing strength. Exhaustion blanketed him in silence as the glow faded from their hands. It was enough for him to know that he had a place by the side of his king, his friend, and that Arthur's warm hand lay still on his own. It held him fast, it held him steady in the sea of dark that beckoned. He murmured Arthur's name once more as his eyes fluttered shut and he slid into a healing sleep once more. He did not see the face of the king, nor did he see his tears, the tears that could belong to no mortal man, the tears that sealed their vow.


	10. Changed Forever: Arthur

Changed Forever: Arthur

Arthur slept for hours. He slept as only exhausted youth can sleep, deeply and completely. He had not slept in the terrible interval between the attack and Alice's arrival and he wasn't sure if he had slept in few starts since then. When he finally awoke, Gwen was seated on the bed next to him, gently stroking his hair. He smiled up into the tender warmth of her eyes, pulling her closer to him.

"He's still sleeping," she said quietly, before Arthur could open his mouth to ask. "Gaius is with him and Alice is asleep now as well. I just looked in and Merlin looks much stronger already, Arthur. Gaius said he tried to argue with him already about getting up."

Arthur nodded in relief. Her words relaxing him, as he let go of the fears that had possessed him for the last few days. He moved from his side to his back, so that he could gaze more easily at his beautiful wife. He was quiet for a long time, stroking Guinevere's hand, thoughtful.

"He swore me an oath," he said at last. " I asked him to stay and use his magic here, in Camelot, Guinevere." He shook his head in disbelief. "He swore me an oath, as if he were a king, and he sealed it with magic. I've never seen anything like it. I still don't know what to think." His voice caught in his throat. "After everything that's happened. After everything my father taught me, after the things I've done...How do I begin to understand that he's been my secret protector for years, Guinevere. For years. Since the day he set foot in Camelot. Think of all he's been through, saving my life, hiding his actions from everyone, bearing with my temper and my misunderstanding of what he was doing all the while. I loaded him with chores, made fun of him... " His self loathing crested as he choked on his words. "Gwen, he nearly died!" Arthur struggled for a moment, while his wife listened. "He could barely talk and to hear him offer his life to me...again." He paused, his eyes burning. "It was... I can't even find the words." he covered his eyes with the back of his hand. "Humbling" he whispered at last. He did not speak again for a long time, but he was pensive, still gently stroking his wife's hand.

"I don't know what I would have done if Merlin had died last night, " he began again with a fragile calm. "I don't know what I would be, what I might become.." he stopped in confusion. "It was that moment, Guinevere, when Merlin's heart stopped and I felt him just torn away, as if he were a part of me... I thought...and then Gaius brought him back and everything came right again. And then I knew Morgana was right..." He took a deep breath, looking keenly up into his wife's tender gaze.

"Don't go there Arthur," she said firmly. "Your heart is NOT broken. Merlin will live, and Morgana has failed again."

"Yes," he said softly. "Yes, Morgana has failed." The heaviness of those words sank into the silence between them. The moment lengthened into minutes, but Arthur remained pensive, his eyes in some far away place., Gwen stroking his hair. With a start he came back to himself. "Morgana has failed," he repeated softly, "but she does not know that yet. She probably believes Merlin is dead."

"And that Camelot has lost it's secret protector," added the queen.

He was silent again. Then he sat up suddenly, kissed his wife and crossed to the table to pour himself a cup of wine. His quick change of mood had startled the queen.

"As usual Guinevere, you have come to the point. What Morgana thinks she knows can be used against her." He popped a chunk of cheese into his mouth and readied a peice of bread for his next bite. "Call the knights for me, Guinevere, only the Round Table knights, I have an idea. I will need to talk to Merlin as soon as he is able. Tell the knights to meet me at the armory in an hour. It's the safest place for right now."

"What in the world, "started Gwen, but Arthur's smile was so high spirited that she could only grin in response.

" Morgana almost killed Merlin, and she tried to kill me too. She almost succeeded because she knows my habits, my ways. But I know her too,and so do you Guinevere. She may not be the Morgana who lived here in Camelot with us, but no one knows her better than we do. She's my sister!" He kissed Gwen with delight, marveling at her dimples." and one thing Morgana would never miss is a ," he paused for a fraction of a second, "a spectacle."

"What?"

But Arthur would give no more explanation. Guinevere went on her mission to summon the knights and the king attempted to revive himself. After a bath that was decidedly too cool for his taste, George not having Merlin's gift for keeping the bath water warm, Arthur shrugged into his chain mail with Guinevere's help. It's familiar weight made him feel bolder, more intact than the last few days had left him. Arthur gave thanks for Gwen's familiar expertise. Hand in hand they entered the armory, where the knights were waiting anxiously. They all began with questions but their voices stilled as he stood waiting.

"Merlin," he began once they were silent, but he paused looking at his knights. Gawaine's dark eyes were direct, his anger and worry focused down into a feral alertness. Elyan, steady and careful, fierce in his protectiveness, reached out and took Gwen's free hand. Percival looked hopeful, as if a good fight in the offering might steady his nerves. Tristan and Leon, serious as knives, guarded the door. "Merlin lives," he began badly., his voice stumbling. "He... he is recovering, but I have much to tell you and it is for your ears alone. Merlin's life is still in danger and Camelot stands open to attack by Morgana. I do not need your strength of arms, but the loyalty of your hearts."

The silence was deepening, as the knights looked at each other, and at Arthur.

"Merlin has magic." Arthur took a deep breath before he went on. "Morgana attacked us with a fireball, and Merlin stopped it. A second fireball reversed his spell and struck him. He saved my life with magic, but he was almost killed. He never saw it coming. He saved my life with a flick of his eyes. Merlin has been protecting me for years,protecting Camelot, in secret. With magic. Gaius knew all along, but he kept Merlin's secret. Merlin has saved all of us, even my father, who would have had him killed if he knew what he was. Think of all your lucky breaks in battle, each one of you. It was Merlin. Think about it."

Merlin, the manservant, Arthur's shadow, had magic. The boy with the friendly grin, the servant who stumbled down the stairs. Could Arthur be speaking of Merlin? Merlin! The boy who went with them into every single battle, fearless as any of them, with never a weapon at his side or armor on his back. Merlin, whose courage they all knew, whose kindness they had all experienced, who never gave up no matter how dark the day. Merlin, whose loyalty to Arthur bordered on lunacy? Merlin had magic?

Merlin, who was strangely wise and sad at the most essential moments, whose belief and strength of heart had carried all of them when it seemed Camelot was lost. Merlin, who disappeared at odd moments, who was always at the tavern, but never drunk. The faithful companion beside the king at the end of every harrowing battle. Merlin, their friend, had magic. Magic.

"If we are to defeat Morgana, if we are to bring her to defeat her attempts to take Camelot for her own, I will need Merlin at my side," said Arthur. The silence was long now, the implication striking home to each of the knights. The unspoken truth resonated with each of them. There was a change here, in the very soul of Camelot. A change they could have never guessed only moments before.

Gawaine smiled suddenly, tossing back his long hair as he shook his head in awed disbelief. Percival nodded, his eyes sparkling. Eyes met, and flickered back to Arthur's face. He saw only what he had expected, and his heart warmed to their loyalty to himself and to Merlin. Each of them knew that Merlin had fought beside them now for years, and his contribution came clear in a thousand forgotten details that surged into a picture they could not deny. To his shame, Arthur realized it took the knights less than a moment to come to the conclusion of loyalty that had cost him dear in struggle and pain. Maybe Merlin was right about him being a cabbage head.

"We understand, Sire," said Leon, speaking first as he looked around at his fellow knights. "Merlin has always been our brother."


	11. The Lie: Merlin

Chapter 6

The Lie: Merlin

Merlin had awoke as the sun was sliding into a golden afternoon, feeling sore and tired, and definitely hungry. The happiness on Gaius' face told Merlin how uncertain his healing the night before had been. His mentor had looked frankly amazed when Merlin quickly finished the soup Alice had ordered brought up from the royal kitchens. He had cajoled Gaius into allowing him to sit up for a while by the fire, well-wrapped in blankets and closely watched, in case he should tire.

A soft knock sounded and Arthur entered, a hopeful expression on his face exploding into a brilliant smile as he spied Merlin.

Unthinking, still caught up in amazement that Arthur knew of his magic and was still smiling at him, Merlin stood up as the king approached. He wobbled a bit, but before Gaius or Alice could notice, Arthur reached out and steadied his friend in a rough embrace. Merlin smiled, his eyes dancing, even as his legs started to give out and he sat down rather more quickly than he intended.

"At long last,my servant wakes," laughed Arthur. It was his familiar derisive tone, but his face was uncharacteristically gentle as he slid into the chair beside him. "Had enough lazing about, Merlin?"

The boys grinned. But to Merlin's surprise, Arthur leaned forward and placed his hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk, ", he said quietly, for Merlin's ears alone, "But privately."

"Sire," began Gaius in his careful tone.

"I understand, " said the king, looking up at the old physician. "I promise I will not tire him, Gaius. But I have need of his advice and time is short."

The old man bowed, his lips tight, but a twinkle of pride gleamed as he turned away. He held his hand out to Alice, who rose and took it with a smile. "Some fresh air will do us good, my dear." Both king and servant smiled as they left hand in hand.

"Arthur?"

The king slid forward in his seat, his elbows balancing on his thighs, as he held his gloved hands in a clasped posture.

"I'm not sure how much you remember," said Arthur without preamble. "Morgana saw you use magic, Merlin, and she saw the lightning bolt strike you. Alice and Gaius believe that Morgana thinks you are dead or mortally injured." His voice sank as he reached the end of his sentence and Merlin noted the shadow in the king's shining eyes. It was quickly shuttered. "If she believes that I am broken and grieving, she will strike at Camelot and soon."

Merlin nodded, but he did not speak. He had not heard Arthur speak so authoritatively, so honestly, since before Uther died.

"We must strike while Morgana believes she has the upper hand, Merlin. She is arrogant and she will never expect for us to set trap for her and attack her, especially at this point in time." he paused looking directly into Merlin's eyes. "I'm going to need your help, Merlin, but you must tell me truthfully, will you be able to use your magic to fight?

The servant was at a loss for words. The reality of this conversation was so close to his fantastical dreams, that he wondered for moment if he actually had died and was dreaming out his last moments in a happy illusion. No, this was much too real. "Arthur, I... I can't believe what I'm hearing," he said softly, looking down. " I would fight this minute if you needed me."

Arthur reached out, patting his friend's shoulder gently.

"I'm beginning to understand the sacrifices you have made for me, Merlin, and I would not ask for something so dangerous, if I did not think an attack by Morgana is imminent."

The king looked down suddenly, his voice pained, but honest. "There are still things you and I need to discuss, Merlin. Things I need to know, but this threat to Camelot exceeds any other need. I cannot wait here until my sister strikes at my kingdom, at my people... " He looked back up at his servant. "You know," he said in an almost conspiratorial tone, "My plan is a bit mad."

"Which is," urged Merlin.

"We give you a funeral, my friend. A hero's funeral, and when Morgana arrives to taunt me, as she surely will, we confront her. But I need you to fight at my side Merlin."

"You are going to tell all of Camelot that I died?" Shocked to his deepest level, he hardly registered that Arthur had asked for his help. His eyes were aghast.

"Indirectly."

"What?"

"We must convince Morgana completely. Rumors will pour out of Camelot, that another Pendragon has gone mad with grief and is planning a funeral for his manservant."

"It's positively creepy, that's what it is! Have you actually lost your mind, Arthur?"

"There was a third fireball, Merlin," said Arthur very softly. "after you went down. It was Morgana's own voice. She said the only way to defeat a Pendragon was to break their heart."

Those words sank into Merlin with all the surety of an assassin's knife. He looked up at Arthur, his eyes dark with emotion. The image of Uther, vacant and broken, after Morgana's betrayal, grew vividly real. He remembered Arthur's despair,the feeling that had pulled him back into awareness, even while he was lost in his enchantment, in the burning dark. It touched his heart with real fear. Could it be that Morgana truly understand that if their bond was shattered, it would leave the other irretrievably broken? Surely, not, he told himself. Morgana of old, would have understood the feeling, but her heart had changed, and she could no longer truly conceive of that level of trust, that kind of strength. Morgana could no longer understand such a connection. No, she acted out of spite and her cruel, hollow victory over Uther. Strangely, joy began to flood Merlin from the very place in his heart where the knife of Arthur's words had struck.

"Warlocks are hard to kill, " he said at last.

"She laid that trap for us Merlin and you nearly paid with your life because of it. She knows my habits, my way of thinking. She calculated a death blow to you would break me completely and then she would take Camelot with hardly a battle. If she didn't know you had magic before, she knows it now, and she believes Camelot has lost it's secret protector."

Merlin's heart lightened with every word that Arthur uttered. It was a truly mad plan but it played into Morgana's love of drama, her need for spectacle. Feeling that same dreadful thrill, that thrill he got when he was about to be sucked into a mad scheme with Will, he looked up Arthur again. But the consequences of this madness were on an epic scale.

"And how would we convince Morgana that you've lost it?"

"Servant's gossip," stated Arthur. "Morgana will never suspect gossip is untrue, especially if there are multiple stories."

The warlock smiled. Arthur was correct. She would never suspect.

"But you must tell me Merlin, if you can actually help me in this battle. I will not accept "I'm fine" or some other ruse, if you are not strong enough for the fight. Be honest with me. WIthout your help this plan will fail. I will abandon this idea if you cannot fight, because I can't... " and here he looked away from Merlin's steady gaze. "I can't go through this again, you know." He gestured at the room, and at Merlin himself. He looked down, as if he wanted desperately to hear, and yet not hear Merlin's answer. He fiddled with the edge of his chainmail. He added, "Gaius told me you are the most powerful sorcerer ever born."

"Yeah, well." Merlin felt almost acutely embarrassed though he wasn't sure why he felt that way. The thought of Emrys loomed in his heart and he could no longer bear the weight of that omission. If Arthur could trust him to use his magic and still didn't know the whole story, then he could at least be honest about what he was.

"I'm not really a sorcerer Arthur. I never learned magic; it's a part of me. I was born with it, and I've used it since I was only a babe. I could move objects with my magic before I could sit up in my mum's arms, before I knew what I was doing."

"You said no spell when you deflected the fireball."

"Sometimes my magic is instinctive, and I don't need words. I've learned to use words to focus, to direct it." The silence between them was awkward as the knowledge came clear.

Arthur's words had raised the specter of Emrys, and he knew the confrontation with Morgana might hinge on that identity alone. Merlin had always thought revealing his magic would relieve the weight of lies that bound him, but now it seemed that his situation had deepened into a horrible looping complexity. He felt trapped. But there was Arthur, his eyes lit with a fascinated curiosity that both surprised and thrilled him. He set aside his guilt.

Calling the fire, he extended his hand to Arthur, a flame glowing in the center of his palm. He breathed on it and it grew, blazing blue at it's heart, but it did not move from his hand. He snapped his fingers and the candles burst into light with a vibrating, almost audible pop. He smiled up at Arthur.

"Did you never wonder how I can always light a fire in the rain?"

The king smiled back. Looking up, the dark haired warlock saw that Arthur remembered nights spent in the tearing winds and a fire that never went out. He recalled nights damp with fog, when the forest dripped with moisture all around their camp with it's merry, golden fire. He looked up and despite all that had happened, despite the bond he felt to his friend, who in that moment looked at him with hopeful, searching eyes, Merlin felt the first dreadful flicker of fear take root in his soul.

The secrets he still had hidden might change everything between he and Arthur. Even thinking of it, made him ache deep down, and he felt Morgana's spell stir again. He blocked it easily. Mutely, the warlock prayed that his strength would serve Arthur's mad plan.


	12. The Lie: Arthur

Chapter 6

The Lie: Arthur

Arthur's heart quailed as he saw the knights march out to the training ground. The reality that Merlin's death would have left him broken and uncertain was still so close to reality, that he knew he might be overwhelmed by his emotions, as he set his plan in action. He glanced up at the window of the physician's chamber,wondering if his plan was mad. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, and he knew his plan was mad.

"No," he told himself, echoing the wise words of his beautiful wife. "My heart is not broken." Merlin was by his side as always. While Morgana would believe any act of strength or daring from Arthur, she would never anticipate guile. His sister would be convinced.

As his act began,Arthur felt steadied by the familiar movements of sparring. His muscles warmed to the exercise, his speed increasing as as he allowed his blows to strike harder. He paused, motioning for Percival to hold the practice dummy. He caught his breath and went back at it, stabbing and hacking, bits of leather, cloth and stuffing flying up into the the last golden light of the afternoon. The light had been exactly so, when Morgana had attacked him, when she had nearly killed Merlin.

He paused for a moment, dropping his sword point as he stood. Taking a deep breath, he lunged forward again, working his way through a series of movements, finding pleasure in their accuracy and smoothness.

The fireball was headed towards him, glowing gold. Dodging, he fell to his knees and heaved himself up again. Merlin was shoving his horse in front of Arthur, and the screaming of the animals rang in his ears. He saw Merlin raise his hand defensively, as if he could stop magic with his mortal flesh alone. He was swinging his sword wildly now, his control gone as he stumbled forward with considerable force, into the practice dummy. Gawaine approached from the left, both hands held out in front of him to show he had no weapon.

"You ok, princess?"

Arthur lunged upwards at Gawaine, who leaped back gracefully. He pursued him with series of blows, the long haired knight dodging and weaving as Leon stepped in front of Gawaine, his steel ringing on Arthur's. The king shouted as he spun and attacked the practice dummy again with a manic intensity. Merlin's eyes were filled with fear, with a pleading agony he had never seen before, and then he was engulfed in fire. Merlin had magic. Guinevere was calling his name, but in his eyes, Merlin was falling, fire was blazing from his chest in a circular pattern, smoke puffing upward, as his body hit the floor, limply. He shoved Gwen away, hardly knowing what he was doing, as he shoved the horrific image of Merlin from his mind. Leon's concerned face flashed by as he staggered to his feet.

Gripping his sword with a renewed strength, he engaged Elyan. His sword circled in a glint of silver. Arthur rallied, and in a series of lightening jabs backed Elyan into the practice dummy, raining blow upon blow until Gawaine and Percival were both suddenly on top of him, holding him back. Arthur tore away from them, falling again, casting his sword aside. Merlin had magic. His anger and betrayal fueled his strength as he threw himself into a wild series of blows against any knight who stood against him. He engaged them all, his heart focused by anger and emotion. Percival stood against him now. Then Leon. Gawaine was shouting but he did not listen as he hurled himself forward again. His fear and the burning agony of betrayal filled him with an unnatural strength. Merlin had lied to him. Again, betrayal. Betrayal from his most treasured certainty, from his friend, his servant, his brother. Gawaine landed with a thump as Arthur swept his legs out from under him with a smooth movement of his own.

Arthur fell to his knees, his ears filling with Merlin's screams of agony as they moved him. He was begging Arthur for mercy, begging for his understanding, calling for him as if Arthur's name alone could bring him any relief from his suffering. The young king surged to his feet again, reaching down into his boot to fling the dagger he kept there. With an almost fatal fascination, he saw it tremble as it struck home in the practice dummy. A strange and terrible despair gave him back his strength as he came to his feet once again. Arthur's own heart was laboring, drowning under Merlin's desperate, delusional pleas for help. He lifted his sword, to drive the terrible images away, to strike at the danger to himself, to his kingdom. He was burning. He struck out with his sword again and again, but Merlin was slipping away from him. Merlin was trying to tell him something but he could not bear to hear his words. His last words. His head was pounding wildly. Merlin was dying, and Gaius had gone mad, and something was wrong, so wrong it brought him to his knees.

He heard a cry of anguish, so filled with forlorn abandonment and despair, that his heart stopped for just a second. Merlin was gone,and Arthur's chest was a gaping hole of darkness, the world suddenly still and grey in the space of second. Air was flooding back into his straining lungs; his eyes were clearing. The scream had been his own and to his shame, he knew this had not been a ploy completely.

As they supported him to his feet, he glimpsed the crowd of servants gathering near the entrance of the training field. More clustered, higher up on the parapet. A familiar burst of shame and anger fueled his last surge of energy. He shoved against the hands that were helping him and lurched into the castle, cursing as he walked away.

He opened the door to his chambers and slammed it shut behind him with all his strength. At last, he was alone. The trap was set. Arthur wiped his face, sponging away the sweat, his tears. He wondered why he was still crying, as weakness overcame him and the adrenaline faded.

"Sire", he heard someone call softly. It was George's voice.

"Leave me," he shouted, but the voice he heard was hoarse and shattered. "Leave me!" The door closed softly.


	13. Behind the Darkness: Merlin

Chapter 7

Behind the Shadow: Merlin

"I blame myself," said Gaius softly, looking down at his cup of tea. He sat next to Merlin, who was lying on Gaius' bed, resting for a bit. Since it was more comfortable than his own narrow cot, Gaius had convinced him to rest there for a while before his mentor claimed it back again. It was a ruse, and Merlin knew it, but he loved the old man and let him have his way.

"I knew your injury was tormenting Arthur, but I had not enough time...I had thought he was handling this, but now I see I was mistaken. This plan can only end in disaster."

"Gaius, " replied the young man, sighing as he shifted, to look more closely at his companion. " His reasoning is impeccable. The plan is mad, but then so is Morgana." The irony fell flat. "She is no longer the girl we loved. She is no longer ... the woman she might have been."

Gaius gave him a jaundiced look from beneath his flaring eye brow. He silently lifted the spoon and stirred his tea a bit more.

"No." The physician spoke softly, with more regret than Merlin thought possible. "No, she is no longer our Morgana."

"Arthur is right. She will not be able to resist the spectacle; she can't miss the opportunity of tormenting him at a funeral. It will draw her like a magnet, Gaius. Surprise is on our side."

"And how will you protect the people of Camelot from your pyrotechnics and explosions. Spells are notoriously indifferent to the innocent."

But Merlin had already visited that particular thought. He described a warding he would put in place to be triggered by Morgana's arrival, leaving Merlin in a circle of magic with the witch. Using the remnants of the corn doll he had used to block Morgana's magic only a few weeks before, he would set a shield to rise, using the magical connection to the priestess' own energy. It would contain the energy of their spells. Trying to destroy the shield would only weaken her. Gaius was duly impressed with Merlin's ingenuity and insight is setting that type of spell. He was in fact a bit flummoxed.

Gaius shook his head. "You think of everything, my boy" he retorted a bit testily at the end of Merlin's recitation. "except the danger to yourself."

The boy looked down in shame when he heard that. "Please Gaius!"

"Please, yourself," said the old man suddenly, with a vigor and a venom that shocked the warlock. "You nearly died Merlin! I couldn't treat you. I was virtually helpless. You were dying of that damned burning spell, and only Alice was able to pull you back. That was only a day ago. Have you totally lost leave of your senses. You and Arthur as well! One madman leading another!" He got up and walked away, finally coming to a stop by the window. It took him a moment to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry,Merlin." Gaius voice was soft, but firm, as if he had more to say, but his ward interrupted him.

"No, Gaius, I'm sorry," he offered contritely. Merlin saw the strain eating at his mentor. The last two days had been a hell of rare proportions. He remembered Gaius' voice during the long, terrible time he had struggled under the spell. He could not respond, as he could to Arthur, but the pain in his mentor's voice had been a measure of the seriousness of his injury. It had been bad, very bad. Gaius' professional calm, so deeply ingrained, did not mean that his heart was immune to the torture of seeing the people he loved brought to the edge of oblivion.

"You are barely able to move and here you are planning a full scale battle with Morgana."

"The threat is to Camelot, Gaius," he began passionately, but being honest Merlin didn't know what to say, at the bitter look that the physician gave him. In the face of the pain he had already caused, Arthur's plan did indeed reek of danger and improbability. "Arthur believes it will be best to strike now. Morgana will not suspect an attack. We might win peace for Camelot with this one bold move."

The old man did not reply, and the younger man eased to the edge of the bed. He tried to get up, but the bed was softer than he was used to, and he could not gain enough purchase to stand with his limited strength. He sank back frustrated and panting, but focused on convincing Gaius.

"Stay where you are, Merlin," Gaius said wearily. Heading back to the table where the icy elixir of Alice's still sat. Merlin realized that he had done nothing to help his case. Wordlessly, his mentor handed him the vial of liquid and the young warlock downed it in a single grateful gulp.

Gaius sat back down across from him. He patted the boy softly on the shoulder.

"Forgive me, Merlin, I am an old man, and I am prey to an old man's fears. I understand the need. It's just sometimes..."

Merlin, for once, did not reason. He did what he had wanted to do since he heard Gaius' voice in his ear, as he struggled, immobile in his agony. He threw himself into Gaius' arms with an abandon, with the love and relief of a child who believes it has escaped some dark terror of the night. He hugged Gaius ever tighter, and feeling the physician wrap his arms around him, the trembling in his spirit finally stilled. "I'm so sorry," the dark haired boy said at last, muffled by Gaius' shoulder. "I'm sorry, so sorry." For his part, the old physician held the boy close and was not able to speak and if ever there was ever a paean of gratitude, it was the strength and comfort in that embrace.

At last, the old man drew apart, trying his best to quietly wipe the tears from his eyes, as he urged Merlin to lie down again.

When at last, Merlin calmed somewhat,he realized that Gaius was looking at him with solemn eyes, that indicated that he had more to say. This couldn't be good.

"Arthur knows of your magic now, Merlin. He has accepted you in a way I could hardly have imagined. A tragedy, a brush with death can sometimes make us look at situations differently. I believe his attitude to magic has undergone a radical change but I'm not sure what he is thinking. His confidence in magic may be more fragile than we think. He does not know your part in Morgana's vendetta, nor other ... things... that have happened. He does not know about Emrys." He paused to search Merlin's eyes again, and the warlock tried to meet his mentor's gaze steadily, but the world was starting to blur around him. "This is dangerous territory, my boy."

"He knows he trusts me Gaius, and that means more to me than my own life."

"That's what worries me," said the physician as he blew out the candle.

There had been more in Alice's draught than he had thought, mused Merlin, as he his head spun and he closed his eyes to make it stop. Gaius had tricked him into sleep again. For a moment, he suspected that Gaius wanted him out of the way for some reason, but then he concluded the gesture was kindly meant. He was past exhaustion. Part of him knew rest was essential to the battle ahead. But lies of omission can be crueler than outright falsehoods, and Merlin was haunted by Arthur's trust in him. His heart could not rest, though his body was heading into sleep. Merlin drifted away though he fought it every step of the way, relaxing finally when the steady conduit of his magic eased his body against his will, and his heart sank into dark and bloody dreams.


	14. Behind the Darkness: Arthur

Chapter 7

Behind the Shadow: Arthur

The knock on his door was quiet but firm and it swung immediately open at his response. Guinevere was asleep in the interior chamber, but Arthur was restless, poking at the fire, glancing at documents, searching for forgotten objects, he didn't know he needed. His heart fell when he saw it was Gaius, his lips set in a firm line, his expression quiet.

He opened his mouth to ask, but suddenly could not bring himself to speak. He looked away. He could not, he would never give that fear a voice again. He cursed himself for acting like a child.A moment more of safety was all he asked. His heart pounded.

"There is no danger, Arthur. Merlin is sleeping."

Relief flooded the king, but he did not dismiss the dark look in Gaius' eyes.

"Is there something the matter," he queried. He kept his voice calm, encouraging.

"There are things that you need to know, Sire. They are not my secrets to give, but time is short and Merlin needs every scrap of strength he possesses to face Morgana. I have come to tell you what I can." He looked with deep compassion at the young king, who sat listening to his words with a careful calm that would have made Uther proud. The king gestured at the enormous chairs before the fire. He poured a goblet of wine and handed it wordlessly to the old physician, and poured himself one as well. The silence was long between them. Gaius began at last.

"Merlin has done many things for you, Arthur. He has risked his life to defend you from Morgana and Morgause almost since the beginning. He has known about the danger from Morgana even from those first days he served you and he has fought against her more than once on your behalf already." Arthur's eyes were shuttered, careful. He took a drink of the wine, staring down into the cup as Gaius continued talking.

"He bears the scars, sire, that are the proof of my words, though I cannot tell you the tale in it's entirety. Merlin has stopped Morgana in her plans with Morgause many times. When your father was under the spell of the mandrake, Morgan and Morgause captured him, bound him in chains and left him to die, poisoned by serkets. He narrowly escaped with his life. He was stung in the mid back, sire, the track of the poison is clearly visible."

"Morgana captured him again a few months ago. You remember it well, Arthur. He was injured by a mace in an attack, and you were separated." Arthur remembered with a horrible hollowness in his chest, the scrap of jacket , stained with blood, resting on the table and Agravaine's quiet excuses. "She tortured him with a fomorrah, a creature of dark magic, and for a while she controlled his will. The scar is at the back of his neck, sire, a few inches across." Arthur struggled to conceal the shock as he recalled the second incident with clarity. Slowly, he understood that Merlin had been tortured by Morgana, more than once and recently. He felt revulsion.

"You have no need to convince me of his loyalty, Gaius," said Arthur softly. But his heart was raw with Gaius' words. Had Morgana been plotting against Camelot for so long then? Had Merlin fought against his sister in secret all these years? Merlin had been tortured? Merlin had been poisoned and left to die? There was a sense of disbelief, an almost impossible incongruity. Arthur kept listening, though his heart was already plunged into a maelstrom of shock.

"From the time, her magic awoke, Arthur, Merlin was warned of the danger she would become. But Morgana was his friend, and he could not bring himself to either hurt or encourage her in her magic. He fought her in secret as she changed, as she began to hate Uther and plot against Camelot, concealing his identity from Morgana herself, in order to remain at your side. At last, when the sleeping spell attacked Camelot, and you had gone out to fight the warriors of Medhir, Merlin was forced into the unthinkable. Morgana, herself, was the source of the sleeping spell; it was tied to her life force by Morgause." He paused; the king remembered that Morgana had been unaffected by the sickness, with no explanation. He shook his head in surprise. "The only way to break the spell was to kill Morgana. Merlin poisoned her, Arthur. He bargained with Morgause to break the spell at the price of Morgana's life and Camelot was saved." the silence between them was difficult.

"What it cost him to do such a thing, is so dark, I cannot bear to think of it, Sire. But it was done for Camelot. Whatever Morgana tells you tomorrow, you must not listen. Trust Merlin. I can say no more. "

The old physician's eyes were glinting with sadness now. Arthur saw the reflection of Merlin's suffering there. Gaius' revelation had turned the story he thought he knew into a tale of outright tragedy, a complicated tale of faith and friendship whose ending was still in doubt and driven by a terrible vengeance. So it was actually Merlin who saved the day, as he recalled the surprising end of the battle. But his heart stuttered at the terrible deed that Gaius described. He could hardly equate it with his perpetually late, good humored servant. His friend. But the old man was not finished and Arthur looked up again, his blue eyes half-stunned.

"Morgana did not know of Merlin's magic until now. It is the only thing that kept you both safe. He was merely a interfering annoyance, a serving boy whose loyalty and actions could not be explained, but the battle is now on a different level, my Lord. Morgana's need for revenge is deep and now she will know that Merlin is more than he seems. You must have confidence in Merlin now, as never before, Arthur, or it may cost him his life. I have come to warn you, because Merlin cannot and he probably would not, even if he could. The danger to Merlin is extreme. He will fight at your side, and he will not count the cost. You will not be able to stop him. There are still many secrets but whatever happens, Sire, you must trust Merlin. Do not believe anything Morgana says."

Arthur was literally struck dumb by Gaius' words. He knew he had mumbled some response and Gaius had left quickly, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He had sat numbly after he left for a long time. But dawn was slow in coming, as was his conclusion, and he was filled with warring emotions again, as he found himself once more at Gaius' door again. The old man was expecting him.

"I need to see," he said simply.

Merlin was still deeply asleep and all Arthur could see was a miracle, as he neared his servant. His face now a warm, living hue, his body relaxed and free of pain. He was sleeping on his side, breathing easily, and Arthur could hardly believe what he was seeing, his heart was still so tortured by what had happened the night before. But then he remembered his mission. Arthur pulled the back edge of the collar of his shirt down, and there was the scar, just as described by Gaius, at the base of his neck, a silver, almost surgical scar. He shook Merlin's shoulder gently, and he roused a bit, just as Arthur had hoped.

"Let me see," he said to his servant in his usual commanding voice and the boy responded almost immediately, although his words slurred somewhat.

"Go 'way, you prat. Tired." But Merlin didn't stir again, He slipped back into sleep knowing Arthur was there and any disturbance could safely be attributed to him. As he gently lifted his shirt, Arthur saw the scar of the serket sting itself,a rounded pit centered by twisted edges of flesh, knit together from the once necrotic edges of the wound. Darkened snaking scars marked the path of the poison from the wound into his body. He looked at for long time. How had Merlin survived? Beyond the shock of the proof of yet another battle fought for him, Arthur wanted to laugh when he recalled Merlin's tone to his long ago question about where he had been. "I was dying," and of course, Arthur had not believed him. He pulled the shirt down and placed the blanket over Merlin's shoulder as he sank down heavily, to sit by his friend once more.

The movement roused the warlock at last. "Arthur," he said, quietly. He reached out, as if to touch the king, but his hand fell sleepily to his side. "What's wrong?" he breathed, finally rousing to look into the King's eyes.

"Nothing" said the king, although he did not move his hand from where it rested on Merlin's shoulder. "A nightmare."

Yes, thought Arthur, a long, dark nightmare. And the weight of all this horror had been on Merlin.


	15. The Funeral: Arthur

Chapter 8

The Funeral: Arthur

Arthur stood on his father's balcony, the same balcony where Uther had stood so many times as he had ordered the death of a sorcerer. It afforded the best view of the square. The irony smote Arthur like a blow, but his heart was strong. He was dressed in chainmail, but the cape that hung from his shoulders was a simple fall of black. He was unarmed. No insignia, nothing indicated who or what he was, He was not wearing his crown, but the simple circlet he had worn the first time Merlin had saved his life from the witch, Mary Collins.

A crowd of people was gathered below, just as it had been on that first day Merlin had arrived in Camelot. But this was a far different group. Despite no official word from the castle, all of Camelot was gathered to mourn alongside the king. The king was giving his manservant a funeral.

Arthur had heard the stories from Guinevere. The market place had blazed with gossip; it appeared that all of Camelot had heard the tale. Arthur had ridden into Camelot, holding his badly injured servant in his arms. This was well known. But the story had darkened with speculation. Officially, there had been no word from the castle on the fate of the the king's manservant, but the stories had grown and swirled.

Merlin had died defending the king with his magic and their young monarch was inconsolable. The king had killed his servant himself, when he discovered he had magic and was paralyzed with remorse and betrayal. Merlin had survived the initial injury, but had died at the hand of a a banned witch healer, brought into the castle by the Queen herself in the dead of night. But in all the stories there was agreement, the boy had died. Stories were told of the king, lost in his grief. Neither could he eat nor sleep. The king had lost control in spectacular fashion while training with his knights. Gaius had been seen late in the king's chambers following the breakdown in the training yard. All the kitchen help spoke of how the queen had been trying to get Arthur to eat, but plates and chargers had been sent back to the kitchen, dented and bent. The Queen had been seen in tears. Rumors had poured out of the caste and into the lower town. Each one ending with a tale of a king, broken and lost, by the death of his servant. The boy had magic, whispered the servants. Magic.

In the crowd below, the faces were solemn, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. Tristan rode guard over a a platform cart, that stood at the foot of the stairs below. Behind the cart stood a servant in a dark hooded cape, holding the reins to the king's horse. Guinevere stood at the head of the steps, dressed in blue with a transparent veil of black that covered her from head to toe. Behind her stood Gaius and Alice.

To Arthur's pain, Gaius appeared bent with sadness, as if all his years had fallen on him in the space of one night. Slowly they descended the shallow steps, until they stood beside the cart. The Round Table Knights, Leon and Gawaine, Elyan and Percival,appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a fur draped litter. As they began their slow march down the stairs, the crowd could see the still figure on the litter was covered completely by the cape of a knight of Camelot, the dragoncrest picked out in gold embroidery. Some in the crowd burst into tears. The knights carefully slid their sad burden onto the cart where Tristan waited and then stood off to the side.

Arthur trembled as he had never trembled before battle. The wave of sadness that swept the crowd as the litter had appeared on the steps had shaken him. He carefully kept his mind from the possibility of the reality he was miming. Guilt ate at his gut. He began to understand the true weight of a lie. He wondered how Merlin had been able to bear it for so long. He told himself he was going to be as honest as he could. Perhaps that deeper truth would be evident to his people as other parts of the scene about to unfold would fall into shreds. He hoped the truth of his words would convince Merlin of his sincerity. While his confidence in Merlin's loyalty had only increased, his servant still seemed stunned, almost unwilling to believe that he accepted his magic

He looked across the courtyard to the boy holding the reins of his horse. The creature was nuzzling at the boy's shoulder roughly, pushing him a bit off balance. The servant's head turned minutely, looking at Arthur directly and nodded his head in the direction to his right. Seeing the arranged signal, Arthur regained his composure. This was a mad battle, a calculated insane risk.

"People of Camelot, " he began as he took a step forward on to the balcony. His gaze was fixed on the figure under the dragoncrest. "I speak to you today about my servant, Merlin," He let his eyes rove over the crowd. "About my friend, Merlin."

The crowd murmured.

"He served me for many years and he was my constant companion. But I did not know, I could not understand..."His words trailed off awkwardly, but he forged ahead. "Merlin was brave and loyal, wise beyond his years and his station. He lived with a secret he kept from me. Merlin had magic. For years, knowing he could be discovered and executed at any time, he stayed at my side. He served me in secret, rescuing me and defending Camelot countless times. In the end, he gave his life for me. " He was thankful that he kept his voice steady until the end of his sentence. Arthur had anticipated that it would be difficult to speak about Merlin and his sacrifices. He knew with a sinking certainty, that if Merlin had actually died, he would have been incapable of saying any words at all. His heart was still torn by what had happened, and the hemorrhage of grief that would have drained him, was held back only by the knowledge that Merlin was still by his side. This was an exercise in horror to trap Morgana. She was somewhere in the crowd.

Arthur slowed his voice, his eyes still fixed on the golden dragon emblazoned on the scarlet cape.

"He was.." He stopped himself and began again. "Merlin will always be one of the greatest knights of Camelot, although he wore no armor and carried no weapon. He asked me once, if he died, would I call him a hero?" In Arthur's mind he recalled that moment with shame, because he had not answered honestly. "I cannot explain or question why he did these things for Camelot." Feeling the tightness of tears, Arthur forced his voice to ring deep and true. "But I know he was a hero in every sense, unsung and in the shadows though he may have been." The faces in the crowd stared back at him; many of them were wet with tears, other faces struck dumb by the King's shocking revelation.

"Merlin of Ealdor was a warlock," the king paused, looking at the crowd once more, "my loyal and trusted servant, my protector ... my dearest friend."

He turned from the balcony, following a route that would take him to the steps where the funeral cortege waited. His boots rang loudly as he approached the portal. The crowd was silent as he stepped forward into the light. He could feel himself shaking as he went down the stairs and stopped next to the scarlet draped litter. Arthur could not bring himself to look at it, but reached out to Gaius, embracing him with such fierce emotion that the people murmured in sympathy. With visibly trembling fingers, he took the circlet of metal from his head and paused for a moment before he placed it on quietly on the dragoncrest.

He froze as he heard a high pitched, inchoate scream of anger explode from the swirling darkness that burst into his vision. Morgana gazed at him with unparalleled venom as the smoke swirled around her. She would hide no more.

"Hello, brother," she whispered.


	16. The Funeral: Merlin

The Funeral: Merlin

Morgana burst into being with a swirl of darkness and a scream of rage, about fifteen feet in front of Merlin. The sight of Arthur's crown lying on the Pendragon crest had unnerved her completely, just as Arthur knew it would. She was dangerous in a rage, just like any Pendragon, and now she was totally focused on Arthur. Merlin knew she was as stubbornly mad to take the throne of Camelot as Uther had been to stamp out magic from the world. It made her careless. It made her arrogant. Merlin's heart pounded, but he kept still, loose, waiting for the moment to move.

He had spied Morgana earlier as she had slid through the crowd. The protection spell had been set, all that remained was to activate the spell once the field was clear.

"What is your obsession with servants, Arthur?" Merlin could see the back of Morgana's head as she moved closer to the king, who still stood at the top of the stairs. HIs heart was still pounding from the emotions that Arthur's words had evoked. Oddly, Merlin recalled Morgana's beautiful dark curls shining in the firelight, so different from the knotted snarls in front of him.

"Your people are laughing at you," continued Morgana. "First, you marry a servant and make her queen. Now this fuss over Merlin." She paused. "Really, Arthur, I never understood your fondness for him. Even if he did have magic, he was a bumbling fool and he had few qualms about killing when it suited him."

Arthur merely stood impassively as the words rushed over him. His face appeared still and regal. But Merlin knew that look on Arthur's face. It was one he knew well. The young king was wrapped in his hunter's quiet; he waited still and unmoving, allowing his quarry to venture ever closer until the final moment. Morgana was so entwined in her rage that she misjudged her danger. Merlin took a few breaths to steady himself.

"You can't hope to know who he truly was Morgana," answered Arthur. "And you can't even hope to understand."

Merlin's heart flooded again with that unfamiliar joy that had filled him while Arthur had spoken on the balcony, for he heard it's echo again.

"He poisoned me Arthur. Did your precious friend explain how he tried to kill me behind your back?"

"Your sister's spell was destroying our people, Morgana. What choice did he have?"

"Told you that little fantasy before he died, did he? Or did Gaius have to fill you in." She laughed, a sound devoid of any mirth. "How long did it take him to die, Arthur? Did he beg you to let him die? Don't think I don't know the exact moment."

Arthur's head bowed just a fraction as Morgana's words spilled over him.

" He believed in you so desperately and he died knowing you despised him. That was the ultimate irony of the spell. Trapped in his mind,he died betrayed by the king he loved. Could he even hear you? You don't know how much I wanted to hear him beg for mercy! He deserved everything he got and more for all the times that he interfered. My sister Morgause would still be here if if not for his meddling." Arthur remained unmoving, but he glanced down at the figure on the bier. Merlin could almost see the nightmare as Arthur's mind flooded with the images of Morgana's words. And he realized how far short the spell had fallen, despite all that had happened.

"Did you feel the magic scream as he slipped away, Arthur? I did! He died calling your name...even a being as dull as yourself, must have heard it!"

Merlin edged closer to Morgana. Arthur's eyes did not even flicker, knowing the simplest of movements could reveal Merlin's presence to Morgana prematurely.

"He's not here to protect you any more, Arthur. You cannot stand against magic. Our father was wrong," she spat at him. "Magic can never be eradicated. It can never be defeated." Morgana came ever closer to Arthur. "Camelot is mine!"

Merlin's eyes met Arthur's. Together they gave the signal and with a cry, the knights rushed the wagon, drawing their swords from beneath the dragon crested cape. Arthur's horse got loose and the crowd moved back instinctively as the creature circled and then fled for the safety of the stables. Gawaine held aloft Excalibur, tossing it lightly to the king, who caught it with a surety of meeting an old friend. The knights turned as a group and pushed out away from Morgana in the confusion. The crowd backed away again. Guinevere had escorted Gaius and Alice to the edge of the courtyard in the hushed interval of Morgana's speech. The sudden smile that lit Arthur's face horrified the witch as he took in the action. Her eyes darted around her, refusing to show fear, but feeling the sudden constriction of the Merlin's protective circle activate.

"Merlin" shouted Arthur and then Morgana turned, still confused by the action but certain of her revenge.

"Call all you want Arthur, he's gone and Camelot is mine."

Shoving back his hood, Merlin threw himself the last few remaining feet forward, balancing as he positioned himself in front of Arthur. Boldly, he raised his hand. At the same time, Morgana screamed a lightning bolt from the netherworld. As it flashed, Merlin raised his other hand and a circle of fire shot into the sky, a rainbow shimmering remaining as the light sank down. The knights had positioned themselves at the outer edges of the circle of fire and he could still see them through the flickering veil, the crowd behind them. Only Morgan, Merlin and Arthur remained in the circle. Gawaine raised his fist in conspiratorial joy, giving him a shout of delight. Percival nodded. Even Leon smiled.

The warlock knew now was the crucial moment. His focus never wavered from Morgana. Shoulder to shoulder with Arthur, Merlin centered himself, as he saw Morgana attempt to attack the shields that enclosed her. She trembled and sank down to her knees as her last attempt drained her. He could see the blossoming terror in Morgana's eyes as her spells reverberated against the glowing shield.

"I'm still here," said Merlin evenly. His voice held just the faintest trace of warning. Shock paled Morgana's livid eyes. Disbelief, shock and hatred warred in her face as she looked into his eyes.

"I saw you fall", she said at last. "I saw the lightning reverse and strike you. I heard the magic scream two nights ago..." She shook her head in disbelief.

"I am Arthur's servant, Morgana. Nothing will ever change that. " Her green eyes glittered as he spoke to her. The anger in them was a snare awaiting his merest touch to release it's devastation. "You have seen my magic. I have fought by Arthur's side from the beginning, even before your own magic awoke."

"You serve Arthur," spat Morgana, her eyes unreasoning and dark with rage. "Arthur! Vain, proud and arrogant on the best of days, a vicious fool on his worst. You have betrayed magic once again, as I begin to see, you always have! What hope of freedom does magic have under the rule of such a king?"

"What hope of freedom do any of us have under such a queen as you!" he shot back. "Camelot has not forgotten your brief reign of terror. They remember the crops you burned. The people you killed."

"Enough," cried Arthur. Merlin could hear the murmur of the crowd even through the crowd. "Enough,Morgana!" Merlin folded his arms over his chest.

"Can't you see what is in front of you? You claim to rule Camelot because magic has been denied. That time has ended Morgana."

She looked between Arthur and Merlin, the truth just beginning to sink in. For a second, her mouth gaped and then the venom filled her eyes again.

"You are Emrys," she cried suddenly. Just as Merlin himself, in the fresh aftermath of near disaster had made the leap of understanding before his mind could react, so the moment revealed the truth to Morgana.

She laughed, a bitter sound, and with a flick of her eyes a fireball grew between Merlin and Morgana. The energy crackled, the colors corruscating over the sphere, until at last the energy peeled off in a transparent layer, gaining an image as it rotated around the glowing sphere. Merlin and Dragoon flowed in the whirling layers of images, until, she gestured and the energy dissipated in flash of sound, like an earthquake, like the roar of water.

Their was a horror in Arthur's eyes. The image of Dragoon settled in his mind and to Merlin's surprise, he felt his connection to Arthur falter. Like a wound, it caught him numbly. He looked desperately over to Arthur, but the king did not respond

"Magic has always been at the heart of Camelot," cried Morgana, almost giddy with her new knowledge. She called a new globe of energy into her hand.

Merlin called to Arthur, but again there was no response. His heart faltered from the shock. The globe began to whirl madly, images forming on the surface as it continued to spin. Dragoon appeared, but his actions were twisted, true enough to real events but working against Camelot all the while. Merlin snapped the globe out of existence with a depressing hiss and Morgana looked up in shock. Then her anger focused on a new plan. He saw it bloom in her eyes in the microseconds of their gaze.

With a smirk that he remembered far too well, Morgana looked into his eyes and spoke a single word, "Ácene".

He easily shoved the spell aside, almost unthinking, and turned back, hoping against reality, calling to Arthur once again. The king's eyes were empty, almost as shattered as that moment of his own magic's revelation. A wave of dizziness shook him, and he stumbled, but he came to his feet quickly.

"You are a fool, Merlin!" Morgana was laughing.

Merlin felt a terrible sadness overtake him . A fateful courage rose up in him as well. No one would ever question his loyalty to Arthur again. He had brought his friend to the brink of his destiny. Surely If he defeated Morgana now, his work was done. This was for Arthur, he told himself. In his heart, he knew the king would grieve, perhaps. No, that was wrong, he told himself. Something was wrong. Arthur was merely in shock again. It was Arthur who had stood by him when he had been lost. It was Arthur's voice that had pierced the spell.

And yet, said his agonized heart. And yet, with one more inexplicable image of Merlin's actions, Arthur would drop away, stunned, just as he was now. It didn't matter. Hadn't he promised to serve Arthur always? Had he not made that vow and bound it to his soul with magic? He would remain true to Arthur, no matter the cost. No one would ever question his loyalty again. Hadn't Arthur said so at the funeral? He would fight this last time for Camelot, for Arthur. Deep down, he would be glad when it was over. Camelot would survive and Arthur would mend. Vaguely, he knew the thought felt wrong. Looking down Merlin could see that the very stones were creeping like vines up his legs, holding him in place. He brushed them off with a wave of his hand and turned to look at the witch again. His sorrow filled him with a doomed anger, with reckless abandon. In the end, he fought alone. He turned to face the beautiful wreckage before him.

"Let's end this, Morgana."


	17. Enchantments: Arthur

Enchantments: Arthur

Stunned by the image of Dragoon, Arthur was trying to wrap his mind around another revelation. Merlin was calling him,but his mind was consumed with Morgana's images. He struggled from beneath their traitorous colors and images, Gaius' words echoing in his ears. Trust Merlin. Above all, trust Merlin. He wrenched his mind from the images that Morgana had sent into motion and looked at his friend.

But Merlin was no longer at his side. He was only feet away, his eyes locked on Morgana as they stood only inches apart. She spoke and her eyes glowed. Merlin gestured and light flared as her spinning orb of images hissed out of existence. The warlock turned back to look at him once more. With a ferocious surge of deja vu, he saw the second spell overtake Merlin, surrounding him in a shadow of red, before he saw him stumble.

To his horror, Arthur understood that Merlin had just been wounded by a spell. The king knew little of magic, but he had seen men stumble in just that way a hundred times, as the sword cut them open. There was no blood but Arthur knew that stunned lack of comprehension as it passed over Merlin's face. Arthur's heart began to pound painfully in his chest. He rushed forward, ready to catch his friend as he fell. But he didn't. The servant turned from Arthur with a grim joy in his face to meet Morgana. Arthur began to wonder what he had seen.

"Let's end this, Morgana."

Warlock and witch circled each other, the murmur of the crowd ebbing and flowing around them, beyond the almost imperceptible heat shimmer of the Merlin's magical shield. Arthur could see the knights, the faces in the crowd, and then he caught sight of his servant as he turned in his circling, still intent on Morgana. There was something in his face that Arthur had come to know well during the long horror of Merlin's enchantment. The king knew that burning darkness more deeply than he ever wanted to know anything like that again. Despair and love were written large for all to see. Merlin believed he would die alone, abandoned by his king and he would not count the cost of the battle. He welcomed his doom. Merlin was caught again in the same spell that had tortured him to the edge of madness and death. Without hope, Gaius' words came back to him once more. Trust Merlin.

Knowing hardly anything of magic, beyond his prejudices and tales of evil, Arthur had only his heart to trust. He knew he trusted Merlin as he would never trust another soul until the end of time.

In Merlin's realm, Arthur's sword was useless. But he had been trained since childhood to think and to act as warrior. One did not always need weapons to fight. Morgana's spell was taking a new form, changing subtly to attack in a different, but familiar way. The thought propelled him forward.

He rushed at the witch, but she stopped him with a jolt, an invisible barrier surrounding her, and he fell to his knees,the wind knocked out of him by the surge of energy.

"Yes, Arthur," she relied almost lazily, as if she was answering a tedious toddler. Her eyes never left Merlin's face. But it was enough distraction, that Merlin's eyes flared gold, pushing Morgana back a step, as a whirlwind sprang into life between the warlock and the witch. Morgana laughed and the column of wind transformed into glowing sparks of fire, coalescing like a gigantic plume of flame, the deadly intensity of the heat drained by the wind.

Merlin shook his head and his hand flew upwards, his mouth silently mouthing the word "Draca." The glowing pillar exploded into rising sparks, forming into a dragon, a creature of dreams with wings of fire, his scales a sorcerous gold as he disappeared into a rush of steam and fog. The crowd murmured again, a few voices raised in a huzzah but silence settled heavily as tension built.

"Enough games, Morgana," Merlin's voice was firm and it's fatefullness drove a knife through Arthur's reality. His friend still had not heard him. Merlin was still trapped in the enchantment, his awareness narrowed fatefully on the witch. The king could see it in his eyes. They were dazed, faithful, desperate.

"Hold fast," Arthur shouted, with all his strength. "Hold fast, Merlin!"

The warlock jerked minutely, as if he recognized something. His eyes looked uncomprehending at Arthur, as if he was waking up.

"Merlin!"

The warlock's shoulders twitched as he stopped circling and Arthur saw the spell shatter. Merlin took a shuddering breath. His eyes shone with a sudden and dangerous joy. so beyond his previous despair, that he seemed reborn in an instant. He looked at Arthur for the space of a moment, for once, beyond words.

Morgana was crafting another spell, weaving tendrils of shimmering darkness into a rope that grew in a few seconds into a scintillating snake of coiling proportions. It surged towards the warlock, who ignored it as if it was so beneath his notice that he could gave it no attention. Merlin stood before Morgana fearlessly, his eyes lit with magic. Even Arthur could feel the power that radiated now from the form of the young warlock. It rippled from him in waves of joy. Arthur would have never guessed the strength of the magic that answered to Merlin's call.

"Gredef gwr oed gwas,

Gwerhyt am dias."

Merlin chanted. Incandescent, flaring with power, he flung his arms wide. His stance was fearless. Morgana's dark snake evaporated as if it had never been. His words held a mythic note. Though Arthur could not understand the words, he felt them sing though him. It told of the courage of his warriors, their dream of a just and fair world, a people who lived in peace beneath the white towers of Camelot. This was no enchantment, realized Arthur. This was a testimony, the making of something far greater than either he or Merlin. The crowd moved back, their faces raised in wonder.

"Cas e rofa thi,

Gwell gwnief a thi,

Ar wawt dy voli,

Kynt y waet elawr." *

The air around them flickered, as if with a haze of heat, like a mirage, but the only image that remained was Merlin himself. The spell ended with a roar of thunder and the crash of water, a shaking of the land beneath them, everything rising under a new light into a rising wind. The scent of magic was strong in the air. His power silent at last, hands quiet at his side, Merlin looked almost shyly at Arthur, as if something had changed, something wonderful.

Arthur stepped forward, feeling his faith in Merlin compel him, knowing what he had planned from the start, but still stunned at the turn of events. Arthur was unsure whether his words would bring peace or utter chaos, but Camelot could no longer remain as it was. He stood by the warlock and faced Morgana, who stood, still defiant, before them.

"Magic stands at the heart of Camelot," said Arthur strongly. Loud enough that the crowd could hear. His voice rang out as it had when he spoke of his friend Merlin. Arthur looked at Morgana with the ironic tenderness of their shared childhood. Now he could see how their young lives had been twisted by Uther's vengeance, by the lies that bound them together. He felt the pain of a brother betrayed by the sister he didn't know he had; he felt the sorrow of a king who faced an impossible and terrible choice.

"It is the heart of the sorcerer that drives the magic, for good or ill. I have no fear of magic if it is Merlin who wields it. Those who have magic will be welcome in Camelot if yhey wish to live in peace. Together let us build what has been broken. With sword and magic, let us protect our lives and homes. We can strengthen each other, we can heal the wounds of this terrible time. Let this truce light the way through the darkness." In his heart, Arthur wondered if his leap of faith would bring destruction or salvation. He turned to look at the crowd.

"My father was a good king, a strong king and I honor his memory. But I can no longer persecute those who have magic."

Morgana's wail of despair broke through the moment. "You and your fine words, Arthur. I know better. When it comes to magic, there will be only the back of your hand and the burning darkness of the stake!" Holding her fists crossed above her heart, she threw her hands up in a ritual gesture of release, screaming, "Forleosan binnan bryne." *

Fire surrounded them. Through its hungry grasping movements, through the fearsome shadows of the flames he could see the world only dimly. Instinctual fear compelled him to run, but Merlin held him still. His eyes were shining, dancing like water; they glowed gold and the fire died into ash.

Morgana paled as she looked at the king and his servant emerge from the fire spell. In that instant, Arthur saw the change come over Morgana's furious face. In the space of a moment,her anger faded and her eyes cleared of all feeling, until they were as pale as glass, transparent as time itself. Her expression became strange and foreign. Morgana was overcome with a fey glamour. Something else spoke through Morgana, and it's eyes were ancient. Her words dropped like molten gold into the clear silence between them.

"You will not defeat me, Emrys," said the seer in the quiet. "We are bound together forever, hatred and love, despair and hope. I promise you we will be together before the end of Camelot. Your fate still stalks you Arthur Pendragon, though the form of your future changes even now. You and Emrys shall rue the day you showed me mercy." She closed her eyes , swaying where she stood.

When she opened her eyes again, the power had left her and she was Morgana again. For a heartbeat, Arthur saw the sister of his youth, the beautiful, valiant, frightened girl who haunted his nightmares. He held his hand out to her in a bid for something, he hardly knew what. Then anger distorted her face into a mask, obliterating the moment.

"Show me mercy," she said through the burning darkness in her heart.

A/N: *Merlin's incantation are the opening lines from the ancient welsh poem, the Gododdin, written by Aneirin, a contemporary of the poet Taliesin, in the 5th century. Joseph Clancy's moving translation of the poem will be given in the last chapter of the story.   


* Morgana's spell: Destroy in fire!


	18. Enchantments: Merlin

Enchantments: Merlin

Mercy... The word reverberated through Merlin's heart as Morgana slithered from her seer's trance and became the darkness he knew best.

Perhaps if he had trusted to the mercy of his heart, Morgana would not be standing here now, her eyes malevolent, her spirit tangled forever in a web of anger and betrayal. Merlin reminded himself that only a fool mistakes remorse for mercy. An eternity of regrets would not bring back the girl she had been. Yet there had been enough death and destruction, enough darkness between them to last many lifetimes. Perhaps the moment for mercy was now.

The voice of Kilgarrah rose in warning in his heart. Perhaps it was his mercy that had brought him to this day. But no, here in this eternal moment, in the space between what had happened and what legend would write in the hearts of the people, there was this moment of truth. Surely, that too, must be the moment of mercy.

"Morgana," whispered Merlin, but the plea echoed only in Morgana's heart, for only she could hear it. It was the smallest of whispers. It was a hope so frail, so tender, that surely it had no chance of surviving the whirlwind of Morgana's heart. But hope is hard to kill. The witch hardly felt the spell take hold. Merlin smiled. Here was his only mercy. She had shown him the burning darkness that lived in her heart, she had tortured him with it. Here was his answer. The spell had taken hold firmly now. Merlin felt it's insistent pull.

"Go, Morgana," said Arthur quietly. "Take the mercy we offer you and go." Merlin felt a surge of weakness, as if his strength was draining from him, but there was no break in the battle. He called upon his magic to shore up his stamina for the immediate moment. It filled him, like water, moving to encompass all of him now, even his darkest pain soothed under the flow of his magic.

"You will not dismiss me like a dog, here in the place that is my home," she cried, her voice rising harsh and dark. She was mad with rage, seeking some outlet of violence to relieve the burning within her. From her hip belt, she drew her jeweled dagger and flung it at Arthur. In the enclosed space of the magic circle, her aim was true.

Merlin reacted from his deepest self. Time slowed. The dagger was speeding end over end, nearing Arthur even in the slowed time stream. The sight was familiar. He had just met the prat and a witch was singing. It was so insanely simple that Merlin laughed as he snatched the dagger from the air itself, dropping it to the ground and loosing time into the typical stream. A fire shot through him. He turned as he released the dagger from his hand and he felt himself stumble. He was suddenly sickeningly dizzy, but he stayed on his feet.

"Never" he told Morgana, his mental voice echoing in her head. The dagger had been spelled, meant for him, not for Arthur. Morgana was nothing if not persistent. Somehow he knew that Morgana's vengeance could not be satisfied until she killed Merlin and could begin her fatal torture of Arthur. But Merlin meant 'never'. Her power would never touch Arthur, if he had any means to stop her.

Magic filled him once more. Power flooded him like the roar of a summer flood, gushing in powerful currents, shoving aside whatever stood in it's path, sweeping everything away. Elemental, his magic spread out over the land. Spirits and wonders that dwelt in Camelot answered to his call. Deep in the waters,in streams and lakes, wells and ponds his power called. In the heights of the cool mountains where the ice never disappeared, magic rang like a crystal. It's voice pierced into the deep forests and caves,where the stone grew in fountains and waterfalls of crystal. In the wind, magic soughed in the trees, raising it's voice to the clouds. It whispered freedom to the purged objects kept secret in the dark vaults of Camelot. All that was magic woke to Merlin's call. Their voices raised in Morgana's mind. She screamed in agony. His magic tore at her, striking at her soul; the roar of his wind ate at her heart. "Never!"

Morgana was rising in a flood of black wind trying to transport herself away, but Merlin's shield still held and she weakened. She could not avoid the roar of magic that rose up around her in a mighty crescendo. He heard her echoing cry of despair as she tried to leave the magic circle again. She flung herself against the barrier again and again, her screams weakening as Merlin's shield drained her. Taking a chance, Merlin dropped the shield, the power immediately evaporated in shimmering motes of gold. The witch was gone in an instant, the air around them clearing. The crowd erupted in a roar and he came to his feet. He felt stunned.

He turned to Arthur, still shocked they were alive. They were alive! The king's eyes were blazing and Arthur had his arm around him in a mighty embrace. Merlin had never felt such joy.

"I'm free" he gasped, laughing out loud. The sense of shock was bizarre. Arthur took his hand and held it up in the air, along with his, a gesture of victory. Everything was unreal. The knights were suddenly rioting all around them. Gawaine was lifting him up and there was cheering. Guinevere was laughing in Arthur's arms and Leon was clapping him on the back. Elyan and Tristan were beside him,wordless and merry as boys. Merlin threw himself into Gaius' arms, brushing off his look of concern with a familiar grin. Percival was parting the crowd and they were moving to the castle in a blur. The crowd was cheering for Arthur and people were calling for him. They were calling his name too. The crowd was throwing flowers. People had brought flowers to his funeral. The idea struck him as so ludicrous that he found himself either laughing or sobbing; he wasn't quite sure which. The crowd pressed on him and his head swam. His vision righted after a moment, but it it happened once more. Then again.

Something was wrong. Merlin kept moving, he had to get to Arthur. He wasn't bleeding. His searching hand found no wounds but he felt the dizziness return and he faltered as the crowd swept him further along. He could no longer see Gaius. Arthur was far ahead, and so was Guinevere. His head reeled but he was confused. Something was wrong. He wondered where he could rest until the weakness passed. Dimly, the thought disturbed him, but he let it go. So tired. At last he found himself pressed against the cool marble of a familiar hallway and he found a store room door. He was just so tired. He just needed to stop for a second. He looked down dully at his chest as he leaned against the wall, but again, he saw no wound. He rested his head against the wall. It was so cool against his cheek. He felt a surge of heat and sweating as hIs legs gave way slowly and he slid down the wall.

Morgana was gone, somewhere, and he wondered when his spell would start to work on her. It was more subtle than hers. He wasn't even sure what form it would take. He was free. Free! Magic had returned to it's place in Camelot. Arthur was the king of prophecy. These things passed through his mind in a jumble of happiness as he lay on the floor. The warlock smiled. He felt lightheaded again, even though he was on the ground. The shadowy shapes in the storeroom were growing larger and smaller. Merlin closed his eyes. He heard people calling his name out in in the hallway. He called out with his mind and heard Alice's gentle reply immediately.

She opened the door a minute later. She lifted him carefully, calling his name. He smiled wearily at her, relaxed and trusting under her capable hands. She was checking him over, gauging his injuries with a silent pass of her hands and a spell in her eyes.

"Swallow." she murmured. The syrupy liquid tasted of mint, but he didn't regain his strength. Alice's alarm increased as minutes passed. Gaius entered but Merlin must not have noticed because the old man was lowering himself to his knees painfully when he first noticed him. He smiled, but Gaius did not.

"Merlin," His voice shocked.

Alice leapt in to explain as much as she knew quickly, trying to calm the old physician with information.

" He took two strikes during the battle Gaius, a red shadow..., you saw them too!" A glance passed between the couple. " I had never seen it's like, so I didn't know what had happened. These are very severe injuries. " She struggled to communicate the concept to her partner, their minds connecting as her eyes flared gold. "He's bleeding out, but it's not a wound we can see. I'm not sure he even knew he was injured at first. It's a psychic blow to his life force..." Her voice faltered, softening as she came to a terrible truth. "My love," she whispered, "his strength is nearly gone." Gaius visibly shrank into himself, but he lay a gentle hand on Merlin's forehead.

"I'm so happy," murmured Merlin, caught by the dark sadness in his mentor's eyes. He smiled even though his eyes burned with tears. Alice was heading for the door and his head spun as Gaius carefully lifted him in his arms. His mentor held him comfortingly against his chest. The physician's magic was flaring, bracing his strength a little, like pressure on a wound. Gaius would never stop fighting for him. He was so thankful even if there wasn't much hope.

Alice's voice was further away now. She was sending for the king. He drifted in Gaius' arms, thinking of how odd it would be to see Arthur in a store room. The old man held him close, his grip firm, but he would not meet Merlin's eyes. He wanted Gaius to know it was all right.

"I'm happy, " he said again, trying to sound strong. His eyes were pleading with the old physician for something he could not even acknowledge. He could see Gaius was beyond speaking. "I'm free, Gaius." It was getting harder to talk and the old man tried to quiet him, but he couldn't, he wouldn't listen. "You're free too... and Alice." His vision was swimming now, but he could still make out his dear mentor's face. "I'm happy," he said softly, putting as much comfort into his voice as he could.

Time was short as he focused inward, thinking of Arthur, his heart complete with joy again. He summoned the spell that had lit his heart with hope, that forged the dream of Camelot anew. If he set the spell again,if he could guide the magic clearly enough, part of him would be bound to Camelot forever. Time was running out. Arthur would be here soon. He closed his eyes, focusing what remained of his strength.

"Gredef gwr oed gwas,

Gwerhyt am dias," he whispered.

Arthur's hair was shining in the sun and Excalibur was in his hand. The sword sang for him alone.

"Ethy eur aphan,

Ny bi ef a vi."

Arthur was riding, and the wind caught his cloak in extravagant folds. His mail glittered and he turned back to look at Merlin. Arthur was somewhere close. He could feel his familiar strength near at hand.

"Cas e rofa thi,"

"Gwell gwnief a thi. "

The king was crashing into the room, flashing black and silver in the gloom.

"What happened?" Arthur's voice was aghast. "When the battle was over, he was fine, we were..." He reached out, trembling, to touch Merlin's hand where it lay on the floor. Merlin arched at his touch, pain shot through him like the slash of a blade..

"Alice," Gaius called out, in sudden hope, as he felt a change in his ward. She passed her hands slowly over Merlin and nodded in silent agreement with Gaius. She motioned for the older man to move him into Arthur's arms. "It's slowing." she said breathlessly. Merlin panted, unable to stop them.

Arthur was knee to knee with Gaius. He reached for his friend, but the warlock's body jerked as Arthur slid his arms beneath him. Merlin heaved in sudden agony, struggling against Gaius. The king withdrew. Merlin knew that despite his courage, Arthur couldn't bear to hurt him like that. He collapsed in the physician's arms in immediate relief, but he looked up at Arthur, pleading to finish the spell wordlessly, and he saw Arthur retreat, as if he understood. He felt a swelling in his strength.

He pulled the threads of his spell into the weaving that would bind him. It took all his thought; it took every last bit of his heart. The brief rally of energy had rapidly faded, and he struggled to finish the spell. He believed in what he was saying. It was bound in his destiny, but the true strength of the spell lay in something mortal, something rare and worth great sacrifice.

"Ar wawt dy voli,

Kynt y waet elawr."

The king was standing on the parapets of Camelot, the white towers shining behind him, the image of the dragon of Camelot was fluttering in the wind, blazing colors of red and gold. Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King. Exhausted and spent, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Arthur was there. But it was not the figure of legend, it was his friend, Arthur, the clotpole prince, the king of cabbage heads. He could see his friend was terrified and furious and out of his depth. He was sorry for so many things, but not for this moment. Camelot was safe. Arthur was beside him. It could have ended so much worse, he told himself.

Like images in the crystal cave, he saw Arthur's future change as the consequences of his sacrifice, moved through the possibilities like a wave, like a the wind over the grass. New endings emerged, some dark, some bright. There were so many things he had wanted to say, but even that omission could not mar Merlin's happiness. There was a roar of thunder outside, a trembling in the very heart of the castle, deep in the caverns of darkness below. The wind sang around the towers of his home. Truly, in this moment he couldn't ask for more.

" For Albion," thought the warlock. He was still smiling faintly, when his eyes dropped shut at last.


	19. Dreams Not Forgotten: Arthur

Dear Fellow Merlin fans, At last we have come to the final chapter and epilogue! So many of you have commented and followed/favorited that I am humbled. I hope you will enjoy these last chapters. I thank all of you most sincerely and wish you many adventures. Feliz Día de los Muertos!

Dreams Not Forgotten: Arthur

"Sire, please," cried Gaius in anguish.

Arthur felt himself go pale, a wordless nightmare re-awakened .He crumpled, grabbing at his chest, blinded for moment.

"No,don't stop!" said Alice authoritatively. "It's working like cautery. The flow of energy slowed when you were touching him. We may still be able to stop it." Arthur looked about in wild hope, hardly understanding her words. "You can save his life!"

"Arthur, now!" she commanded. "Here," and with that she took the king's hand and plunged it firmly on Merlin's chest,atop the horrific scar, so recently healed. Unconscious, so painfully weak, Merlin still writhed in pain, his gutteral gasp of agony, wounding Arthur. He couldn't bear it. But Alice was firm and did not let him break contact with his servant, with his friend.

He remembered the red shadow surrounding Merlin and the look on his face, the way he had stumbled. He had thought Merlin had broken that spell, but perhaps that had been only part of the attack. The second strike had come from the knife. Not sure what he had seen, Arthur could feel Merlin slipping away with each beat of his heart. Merlin was still weakening. His wounding was too deep. He fought his way loose of Alice's grip, knowing in some strange way exactly what he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm sorry, Merlin!"

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his friend clumsily into his arms, holding him tightly against his body. Merlin screamed. It echoed in their hearts. His pain was alive, tearing into him, like a blade. Merlin was trying to jerk away, his breath coming in short gasps, but Arthur held him ever tighter.

No, the king told himself. He was closing the stroke of the blade that had done this to his friend. Merlin was shuddering, sweat pouring from his body and he gave a wrenching gasp. He went limp. He was so still; Merlin was so frighteningly absent from the body he held in his arms, that Arthur began to doubt his sanity. He loosed his friend, Gaius bending carefully to check his vital signs. Gaius' expression told him Merlin lived. He sobbed in sudden relief, still not understanding what had happened and what he had just done. But it hardly mattered.

Merlin's hands were twined in Arthur's shirt, his fingers stiff in his rictus of pain. Tenderly, Gaius and Alice coaxed his hands to let go, his body relaxing as the pain of their contact faded. Arthur was beyond thinking.

"What.."

"It worked!" cried Alice. Gaius began to shake in relief and Alice hugged him close.

"What have I done!" Arthur's voice was deep in shock. He was staring at his hands as if he gazed on a nightmare.

"You saved his life, Sire," said Alice gently. The words made Arthur startle from his horrid introspection, diverted him from the fear that was rising in his heart.

"I do not know what magic has bound you to Merlin in this way, Arthur. But let us thank the powers that made this miracle today", counseled Alice. Gaius steadied and wiped away his tears, rough as a boy.

"I do not believe you have magic, Arthur," said Gaius at last, with a look of compassion. He was holding Merlin in his arms, as if he would never let the boy go again. "But the bond between you, has done something I cannot explain, and we might never understand what happened. But surely,it was fate, my Lord."

Arthur was feeling faint with relief now. "Is he better, " he whispered. "Will he... will he live Gaius?" Fear of the answer underlined his tone.

"I beleive so, my Lord. We must wait."

"You warned me," he replied, looking down at his friend. He smiled at Gaius and Alice, leaning down to brush Merlin's hair, and reassure himself that he was still breathing. He was, but he was still looked so fragile, so helpless. Arthur saw that Merlin had exhausted his power, using himself as some kind of conduit, only to find he was dying. His survival was incomprehensible. Emotion suddenly threatened to overwhelm him, there in the cramped storeroom. His heart reeled, taking in everything that had happened. The dark and light of facing Morgana's malice and emerging victorious still overwhelmed him. Merlin had taken a nearly mortal wound and no one had understood he was even injured, until almost too late. And now, somehow, he found their lives and fates were bound together in a way he might never understand. This must have been what the warlock's world had been like all along. He choked his feelings back. He could do this at least as well as Merlin, he told himself. He looked up at Alice and Gaius a little uncertainly, reaching down to touch Merlin's arm. He began to understand miracles.

"You warned me, Gaius." But this time he laughed, because today was not a day for tears. And it all could have ended so much worse.


	20. Dreams Not Forgotten: Merlin

Dreams Not Forgotten: Merlin

Merlin had been told that he was unconscious for five days after the battle with Morgana. All he remembered was the blessed sensation of rest, of knowing he was somewhere safe and warm. He heard Arthur talking to him every so often, reassuring him that all was well. The darkness no longer burned, but held him lightly, as if he was a shadow made by the moon, as if the somnolent strength of magic itself, held him steady.

He had awoken, still weak, to his king's concerned and happy gaze. And it was soon clear, to anyone with eyes to see, that the warlock improved more rapidly when Arthur was near at hand. The knights had been visiting in shifts, never leaving Merlin alone as his healing progressed. Gawaine and Leon took shifts, but Elyan and Percival were also there, and even Tristan came by a time or two. Guinevere's gentle presence was frequent, but Merlin first opened his eyes to Arthur's insistent voice, and he was awake at first only when Arthur was present. Later, as he gained strength, he was able to stay awake only for brief periods, but usually fell asleep if Arthur left the room.

This was a matter of much amusement for Arthur, indeed for all the knights, who laughed and teased Merlin without mercy. And of course the presence of an invisible injury that required constant care and bedrest, was too precious to ignore. Gaius grew infuriated and threw the lot of them out at least once a day. But beneath the banter, was the mystery that had brought them back together.

Gaius and Alice debated arcane theories but Merlin said little, knowing deep in his heart that fate had wrought a miracle with equal measures of his own magic and the strength of one loyal, very human heart. So it pained Merlin, that Arthur's eyes went shuttered at times, and he could no longer meet Merlin's gaze when that subject was touched upon.

It ate at Merlin, bit by bit, as if the long years of his secret had made him unfit to bear another division between the king and himself.

Gawaine had been regaling Merlin with a lively account of meeting a one armed farmer with a pet bear, who could drink ale as well as any knight. The tale was unclear as to who drank as well as any knight, the bear or the farmer, or who had one arm for that matter. Gawaine insisted the bear had challenged him to a drinking contest, although Merlin was laughing at how anyone could judge the bear's inebriation compared to Gawaine's. He laughed so hard it made his chest hurt. He was still wincing in pain and merriment when Arthur came through the door.

"Good thing I brought this," said Arthur, with a smile, as he set a vial of golden liquid on the table. "Better take it. Gaius and Alice will have my head if you don't."

"Do as Princess says Merlin, or you'll be sorry." said Gawaine laughing. "You'll be as sorry as the bear!"

"Sorrier!"

The knight left with a wink and a promise of an outing to the tavern as soon as Merlin could be trusted to be strong enough to bring Gawaine home. 'Stumbling strong', as Gawaine would say.

Arthur slid into the chair opposite Merlin's. There were books piled around the bed and near the chairs. Some neatly stacked and others in haphazard piles. Sheets of parchment stuck out at odd angles from some of the closed books. There was a scroll on top. Merlin picked it up and handed it to Arthur.

Arthur gave his friend a reasonable imitation of Gaius' sardonic gaze.

"What is this?"

"Poetry. You know, poetry. You loved the stuff when Mithian was here, remember."

The king smiled, looking down at the scroll again.

"What does it say? You obviously want to tell me."

"I used it for the spell." Merlin spoke softly, feeling his heart pound a little. "The spell I used when I fought Morgana. "

Merlin could see the shift of feeling in Arthur's eyes. He was quiet for a long time. He looked up at his friend, finally.

"I remember." He paused. The sweep of the dream he had felt when Merlin had said that those words washed over him again. "You said the same spell again, later ,in the store room." The king looked away, remembering the unbearable. "Merlin, " he began, but the warlock interrupted.

"It is a very old poem, written by the bard, Aneirin. He lived around the same time as Taliesein... and he is describing a battle, and his liege. It spoke to me the first time I read it, and I just knew..."

Arthur looked curious. The letters were archaic and in a different language, some of them ornamented in colors, but Merlin knew the text well. He took a breath as he began to read.

"Man's mettle, youth's years,

Courage for combat,"

He translated as he looked at the document, moving his finger along for Arthur's benefit, for he knew it by heart. Arthur looked at him, unable to speak and then looked down at the scroll again.

"Glittering blue blades,

Gold-bordered garments,"

Merlin could feel the sweep of time fade away in the immediacy of the image. Here was Arthur and the world he knew, the world they hoped to better. A kingdom of strength and justice, of true nobility and heartfelt beauty, the time of Albion.

"Never will there be,

Bitterness between us:

Rather I make of you,

Song that will praise you."

He put the scroll on the table and pushed himself to stand, leaning a bit on the chair to get himself to his feet. His chest still pained him, and the memory of the burning darkness surfaced for a moment from the depths of his heart. He staggered for moment, but Arthur was beside him immediately.

He took the king's arm gratefully and gestured to the window, moving slowly as he pushed the heavy curtain back with practiced ease. The square below was quiet, empty, but the lights of the lower town were bright. He leaned against the sill, taking in the peace and quiet, gazing up at the stars that shone like a mist of magic against the velvet dark. He felt like a boy again, like the young man who had walked into Camelot so many years ago.

"I planned that spell a long time ago," he began softly. " I crafted it to hold my hope, my dreams that someday I would be free, that magic would return to Camelot." He paused, trying to find a way to explain the enchantment to Arthur.

"Every time I saved you, Arthur. Every time I fought for Camelot in secret, when everything seemed hopeless and I thought you would never accept my gift for what it was. Every time I couldn't tell you what I had done. When I swallowed my shame and lied to you, to keep my magic safe, I would dream of this day," he paused again. Merlin wondered if he was making sense. "And I made that spell."

"I wove that spell from my heart and my soul, Arthur. Because I believed this day would come. Because I knew no matter how much magic could be persecuted and rejected, the day of freedom must come. It is more than a spell or an enchantment, it is my own hope, my own strength, that is knit into the land, Arthur, into the stones of Camelot itself. I am a creature of magic. " he said softly. Arthur opened his mouth as if to speak, but Merlin stopped him.

" I built that spell out of my trust in you, when I had no other hope. I forged it out of my loyalty, out of the destiny that binds us together. It will stand as long as I live and perhaps, beyond. History is easily forgotten, but dreams are not."

Arthur was silent. His eyes were deep and still, their blue depths unreadable. Merlin had lost his fear that he would find no welcome there.

"I will never understand you Merlin! Even now." Arthur took a breath and laughed with an ease that Merlin envied. "Even when I know at least some of your secrets, I don't think I will ever really understand everything about you. Except this one thing."

"What," laughed Merlin. "That I'm the worst servant in five kingdoms? That you can't make it without me?"

"No, that's not it!" However true those things were, he certainly wasn't going to tell Merlin. He looked about to cuff his friend on the shoulder, but thought better of it, He lay a gentle hand on his arm instead. "You will never cease to surprise me."

It was clear from Arthur's eyes that he wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. Merlin gave him a playful shove and Arthur smiled, simply thankful that his best friend was by his side.

"I thought I understood loyalty, Merlin.I thought I lived by it's code. Or I thought I did, until this whole thing began to unfold. Only now do I see how your loyalty has compelled you to do things. I... I never realized how heavy the burden of a lie can be. Especially a lie that protects. When I spoke at your funeral..." He grimaced at the terrible darkness of those words, "When everyone thought you were gone, I suddenly realized how you must have struggled, how hiding your magic must have worn you down. And I didn't help...The things I said, the chores I gave you, my disregard. Whatever secrets you have Merlin, I know in my heart, that you have sacrificed all of it for Camelot. And now you tell me this..." He ducked his head, unwilling to say more as he looked at his friend.

Their eyes met, understanding was born, but from a trust so deep, nothing else was needed. Somehow Merlin knew this moment would exist in eternity, completing his spell.

Merlin felt something stir in the wind then. It swept out of the night through the window where they stood together, flowing over him with a heady sweetness. To his awareness of magic, it was like the scent of morning, of flowers and sunlight; a breeze of warmth that swept over him. Merlin's vision wavered. The stirring of magic was so potent that it stripped him of what little strength he had; his head spun.

"Arthur," he choked out, as he fell. He found himself on his knees and Arthur was holding him up. The king was calling his name, trying to rouse him. He felt himself gently lowered to the ground. Soon his friend was pouring the contents of the vial down his throat as quickly as he could.

"Gaius and Alice are on their way Merlin. Can you hear me? C'mon Merlin! Finish this before they get here.' As Merlin swallowed, he could hear Arthur rabbiting on in a panic. He was coming back to himself. "Gaius is going to hang me," muttered the king.

The warlock nodded. "Yeah, he will," he whispered. It took him a moment to find his smile. Arthur snorted in disgust, but he sank back in relief as he realized that Merlin was aware again. "What happened? What was that? Really, Merlin, you can't expect me to put up with you swooning like a girl six times a day." He stopped himself, looking carefully at his friend, trying to gauge what was happening. There was a commotion out in the hallway.

"Don't lay there looking half dead, you idiot." Arthur tried to help Merlin sit up, but the warlock was clearly too weak to support himself, and he sank back into Arthur's arms with a whuff of relief. His head was spinning and the suspicion of what had just happened lightened his heart still further. He would have to tell Arthur later. The young warlock smiled.

"Try not to move, Merlin," hissed Arthur fiercely.


	21. Epilogue: Mercy and Remembrance

Epilogue: Mercy and Remembrance

Morgana glowered at the single frail, purple flower lying atop the rough table that served as her table and desk. Something had appeared every evening for close to a week now. Usually she ignored whatever it was and it disappeared after a few minutes. It was a strong spell that sent these ridiculous offerings every day, but it never varied in it's essential form. Some days it was not a flower, but succulent dark berries in a stoneware dish, or a fragment of a spell, written in careful, rounded characters. One day it was a perfect apple. One day it was the feather of a blue bird, pristine in it's purity.

It seemed like something poor sentimental Agravaine would have done, mused Morgana? But a spell of this kind could not persist without a life force. Perhaps it was young Mordred. She looked away from the flower. The whole thing was hardly worth her notice.

She looked again at the blossom. Her memory stirred as she picked it up and inhaled it's delicate fragrance. She remembered them. Violets. They grew in profusion around Camelot, like shining, earthy, clouds of purple in the beginning of springtime. As she picked it up, she recalled with delight, the core of it's stamen was a heart of gold. How she had loved these when she was a girl! She and Gwen would gather handfuls, even armfuls of them, until her room had been flooded with the fragrance and the color. How they had laughed. The memory hurt. It hurt like a wound that ached with the cold. She did not like to remember her life before, before everything had changed.

She tossed the flower into the fire, but the sigh she gave as she turned away, was for the girl who had lived in Camelot, for something that could not be again. How odd, she thought to herself, to remember the girl she had been with such tenderness. The fragrance of the violet clung to her hand.

The wind wafted the scent from her window and out into the night.

FIN


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